The Brightest Witch of her Age
by EthanDalton96
Summary: The tale of Harry Potter told from the viewpoint of Hermione. The story will differ slightly from that of the books as a Harry/Hermione relationship will eventually develop. Characters will also mature faster to allow for romance at earlier ages.
1. The Philosopher's Stone, Part 1

Hermione always liked to lie-in on weekends. She was looking forward to a long summer, and to starting secondary school in just a few weeks' time. She could hear the murmur of her parents' voices from downstairs, preparing breakfast. Hermione heard a knock on the front door, and the soft footfalls of her father on the carpeted hallway; the door opened, and Hermione heard a stranger's voice. After a few minutes, she heard her father coming upstairs. There was a light tap on her bedroom door, and her father walked in.

"Hermione, can you come downstairs please? There's someone here to see you." Reluctantly, Hermione rolled out of bed, put her slippers on, wrapped her dressing gown around herself and followed her father back downstairs. As she entered the living room, she became aware that she wasn't exactly presentable.

Sat on the sofa was a very strange-looking woman. She was heavily built, and had a head of grey, flyaway hair. She was wearing robes of bright green.

"Hello Hermione, why don't you come in and sit down? My name is Professor Pomona Sprout. I am a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Hermione assumed that she had misheard.

"You teach where, sorry?"

"At Hogwarts. It is a school for gifted individuals like yourself."

"Gifted? In what way?" But it was Hermione's mother who spoke next.

"By gifted, you mean more than just intelligence don't you, Professor Sprout? You're saying that Hermione has special…abilities."

Professor Sprout sat in silence for a few moments.

"How long have you known?" Mrs. Granger smiled.

"For a few years now." She looked at her husband and smiled. "Some odd things have happened around Hermione, and we thought it had to be more than just coincidence."

"You were right, Mrs. Granger. Hermione, this will come as a shock, but you are a witch."

The silence was deafening.

"I'm…I'm a what?" Professor Sprout handed her a thick, heavy envelope made of yellow parchment. Written on the front of it in green ink were the words:

 _Miss H. Granger_

 _Single bedroom_

 _24 Hampstead Way_

 _London_

 _NW11_

Turning the envelope over, Hermione saw that it was stamped with a large purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms: a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake, all surrounding a large letter _H_. Eagerly ripping open the envelope, she pulled out a letter, and read:

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Miss Granger,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1_ _st_ _._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

Hermione read the letter twice more, and when she looked up, her eyes were full of tears.

"Mummy? Daddy? Can this be true? Is this real?" And before she knew what she was doing, Hermione had crossed the room and had embraced her parents, crying and laughing with joy. Professor Sprout had stood up. She too was laughing.

"I guess you accept then?"

"Yes! Yes, of course I do!"

xxx

Hermione followed her parents and Professor Sprout off the bus and stepped down onto Charing Cross Road. It looked just like any other London street, but in front of her Hermione could see a rundown old inn, with peeling paint and a faded sign. The Hogwarts professor led the way into the Leaky Cauldron. It was very quiet inside, and dark. Hermione could see two old women talking in hushed tones in a corner, and a younger man was sat at the bar, drinking out of a large goblet. Professor Sprout led the way through the pub and out into a small, walled courtyard. She pulled out her wand, and tapped the wall three times. The brick she had tapped wiggled. A small hole appeared in the wall, and seconds later an archway appeared, large enough for all four of them to comfortably walk through side by side.

"Welcome Hermione," Professor Sprout said, beaming "to Diagon Alley."

Hermione wished she had eight more pairs of eyes. As they walked up the street, she tried to look in every direction at once. She had never seen a street like it. Each shop had fantastical window displays, each one uniquely different to the next. There were shops selling telescopes, shops selling cauldrons and exotic-looking ingredients, and a shop selling owls of numerous species. Outside a shop called _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ , Hermione could see a group of boys with their faces pressed up against the window, gazing in at a broomstick.

"It's the new Nimbus Two Thousand; fastest ever!" Hermione heard one of the boys exclaim. But a moment later, Hermione saw a shop that made her stop dead as well. It was a bookshop. But not any old bookshop. Through the window, Hermione could see more books than she had ever seen before. She was itching to go inside, but her mother pulled her away with a smile. As they reached the end of the street, Hermione looked up to see a huge snowy-white building that towered over the other shops. The words _Gringotts Wizard Bank_ where engraved over the entrance. Standing next to the burnished bronze double doors was a squat creature, with long, pointed ears and fingers.

"Mum? What's that…thing stood next to the door?"

"It's a goblin," Professor Sprout answered, "they guard the bank. Never mess with a goblin, Hermione."

Inside was a vast, towering marble hall. About a hundred goblins where sat at long counters on either side of the room: writing down numbers, weighing heavy jewels, or examining large golden coins. The Grangers approached a free goblin.

"We're here to exchange Muggle money," said Professor Sprout. The goblin looked intensely at them over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"Ah, another Muggleborn, eh?"

xxx

Ten minutes later, Hermione was leaving the bank with a purse full of wizard money: large gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and tiny bronze Knuts. Hermione spent the next few hours exploring the shops. She bought a nice set of brass scales, and a collapsible cauldron. The young witch purchased her wand from _Ollivanders_. It was a dark, dusty shop, but elderly Ollivander was very helpful, and Hermione emerged a short while later with her very own wand: 10 ¾ inches, vine wood, with a core of dragon heartstring. But Hermione was most excited about the bookshop. _Flourish and Blotts_ was every bit as fantastic inside as it looked from the outside. Bookshelves rising all the way up to the ceiling contained more books than Hermione could count. It was a long time before her parents managed to drag her out, and even then, she was weighed down by a lot more than just school books. Professor Sprout guided them back through the Leaky Cauldron and, with the promise that she would return on September 1st to help Hermione catch the Hogwarts Express, back out into the Muggle world.


	2. The Philosopher's Stone, Part 2

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of Platform 9 ¾, Hermione leaned out of the window to wave goodbye to her parents. It felt strange, really. Her life had completely changed only…wow, was it only three weeks ago? Hermione had fully embraced the wizarding world. She had read all her textbooks from cover to cover at least three times, staying up late nearly every night, pouring over all the other books she had bought. She had even been confident enough to try out a few spells.

As the train sped out of London, Hermione dragged her heavy trunk down the carriage until she found an empty compartment. Stowing her luggage, she closed the blinds on the door window, and quickly changed into her new Hogwarts robes. Hermione sat on her own for a while, once again engrossed in a book. Shortly, a small, round-faced boy slid open her compartment door. He looked close to tears.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a toad? I've lost him!" Hermione stood up, smiling. She had been worried that she would struggle to make friends, but here was her chance.

"Don't worry, I'll help you find him! I'm Hermione Granger."

"Neville Longbottom," he replied, a sad smile forming on his face. The pair of them went from compartment to compartment, asking everyone if they had seen Trevor, Neville's toad. Eventually, they came upon a compartment that had only two occupants: a ginger-haired boy, and a dark-haired boy with scruffy hair and glasses.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." But it was at that moment that she noticed that the ginger boy had his wand raised. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then."

"Err…alright." He cleared his throat, " _Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow._ " He waved his wand, but nothing happened.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said Hermione. "Well it's not very good if it is. I've only done a few simple spells myself, and they've all worked for me. For example," she walked across and sat down in front of the dark-haired boy, whose glasses were very damaged and held together by lots of sellotape. " _Occulus reparo_ ," there was a bright flash and a bang, and the glass in the frames repaired themselves. Only now did Hermione get a good look at the boy. She could see the lightning bolt-shaped scar clearly on his forehead, "Holy cricket! You're Harry Potter! I've read all about you of course! And you are?" she said, turning to the other boy.

"Ron Weasley," he mumbled through a mouth full of food.

"Pleasure," Hermione responded in a disapproving sort of way. "Anyway, I was so surprised when I got my letter, everyone in my family is a muggle. I've read all the course books cover to cover, of course, I just hope it's enough. What house do you think you'll be in? I'd love Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad I suppose," she stood up and walked across to the door. "I think you two should change, I expect we'll be arriving soon."

xxx

As night fell, the Hogwarts Express slowed down and pulled into the station. Hermione shivered as she stepped down onto the dark platform. A giant of a man was striding towards them, a lantern swinging from one of his massive hands.

"Firs' years follow me!" She followed the rest of the first years down a muddy path, to a fleet of boats docked on the edge of a black lake. "No more than four to a boat!" she heard the man say. Hermione and Neville joined Harry and Ron in a boat; and, as one, the fleet set off. A few minutes later, they rounded a corner, and Hogwarts Castle came into view. It was magnificent. Standing proudly on the top of a cliff, a multitude of turrets and towers reached high into the starry night sky. The sparkling lights at every window revealed to Hermione just how large the castle really was.

It wasn't long before they reached the opposite bank. They all disembarked, made their way across a paved courtyard, up the stone front steps, through a pair of large oak doors, and into the entrance hall. They were met by a tall, stern-looking witch wearing emerald-green robes.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor McGonagall. In a few moments time, you will enter the Great Hall and will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting Ceremony is an ancient tradition, so make sure you smarten yourselves up." Hermione tried to flatten all the creases out of her uniform, and sort her bushy, brown hair into something that looked smart.

Forming an orderly line, the first years followed Professor McGonagall into the Great Hall. It was a magical sight. Lanterns were hanging all along the walls, which stretched up to the vaulted, starry ceiling far above.

"It's not really the sky," she said to nobody in particular, "it's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A_ History." Four long house tables ran the length of the room, with a fifth table at the far end, behind which were sat the teachers. Candles hovered over all of their heads. Professor McGonagall placed a patched, frayed, old hat on a three-legged stool. After a few moments of silence, a rip opened just above the brim, and the hat burst into song:

 _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave of heart_

 _Their daring, brave and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _If you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folks use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a thinking cap!_

The hall burst out into rapturous applause as the hat finished its song. Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will come forward to be sorted into your houses." Hannah Abbott was the first name to be called. She placed the hat on her head and sat down on the stool. After a few moments silence the hat shouted "Hufflepuff!"

Gradually, the line of students became smaller and smaller, until it was Hermione's turn. She had been itching to be sorted ever since she had first read about the ceremony in _Hogwarts, A History_. She ran eagerly ran forward and jammed the hat onto her head. She seemed to be there much longer than anyone else. Hermione could feel the hat deliberating, before it finally shouted "Gryffindor!" She ran over to the table on the far right of the hall, from where she watched the rest of the Sorting Ceremony. Both Harry and Ron joined her in Gryffindor house, as did Neville (although he must have spent nearly as long as her on the stool). When the final person had been sorted. The Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, stood up.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I have only four words to say to you! Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" As he sat down to yet more applause, Hermione's mouth fell open. The table in front of her (which had been empty just moments before) was now full of food. Dishes were piled high with food: roast potatoes, boiled potatoes, sausages, roast chicken, carrots, peas, broccoli, gravy, Yorkshire pudding, chips and bizarrely, mint humbugs. Hermione filled her plate with a bit of everything. When the main course had finished, the plates were magically cleared away, and were replaced by desserts, which were just as varied in selection as the mains.

When the desserts were also cleared away, Professor Dumbledore stood up again to speak, but Hermione was too full of food and too tired to pay any proper attention. The next thing she knew, the new Gryffindors were being led out of the Great Hall and up the grand staircase by a tall, red-headed Prefect. It was a long walk, all the way up to the seventh floor. They followed him to a portrait of a large woman in a pink dress.

" _Caput draconis_ ," he said, and the portrait swung forward to admit them. They were standing in a round, cozy room, full of squashy armchairs and warmed by a roaring fire. Hermione went up the staircase to the girls' dormitory, and was followed by two other first year girls: Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. She wanted to get to know them, but was far too tired to talk. She went into the adjoining bathroom to change into her pajamas (her trunk had already been brought up), climbed into her large, four-poster bed, and, after the briefest of thoughts as to what her parents might be doing right now, fell fast asleep.


	3. The Philosopher's Stone, Part 3

Hermione put down her quill and leaned back in her chair with exhaustion. She was too preoccupied with the events of the past week to concentrate on her work.

It had all started with their first Potions lesson. The sallow-skinned, greasy-haired potions master, Professor Snape, was head of Slytherin house, and had a reputation of favouring his own students. From the start of the lesson, Snape took particular interest in trying to find ways to criticize Harry. When he took the register at the start of the lesson, he had paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Our new… _celebrity_. Tell me Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" By the look on his face, Harry did not have a clue. But Hermione did. Her hand shot up excitedly into the air. Snape, however, had ignored her. "Tut, tut…fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Hermione stood up and raised her hand as high as it would go.

"I don't know, sir. But I think, Hermione does. Why don't you ask her?" Hermione had felt gratitude towards Harry at that moment, and sent a weak smile his way as she sat down.

For the rest of the lesson, Hermione worked hard to show Snape that she wasn't a dunderhead. Despite her best efforts, she had failed to gain any praise from him.

xxx

The next day, they had had their first ever flying lesson. Of everything taught at Hogwarts, this was the one thing Hermione was apprehensive about. She had taken a book, _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , out of the library, in the hope that she would have been able to glean some tips from it.

That afternoon, Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindors had made their way out to the grounds, where they were met by the Slytherins and their teacher, Madam Hooch.

"Everybody, stand next to a broom. Hold your right hand over it and shout 'up!'"

"UP!" shouted Hermione but nothing happened. Next to her, Harry's broom shot straight up into his hand. Annoyed, Hermione tried again, but this time the broom just rolled over. After everyone had their brooms in their hand, Madam Hooch instructed them how to correctly mount them and take off. But before she could finish explaining, Neville, who was more scared than Hermione was been, panicked and took off. However, he wasn't able to control his broom, and consequently crashed headlong into a wall, fell off his broom, and landed heavily on the floor. Madam Hooch ran over to him.

"Ooh dear, broken wrist. Up you get, let's get you to the hospital wing." As she guided Neville away, Madam Hooch had said to the rest of the class, "nobody is to move until I get back. If I see anyone on a broom, they'll be out of this school before they can say 'Quidditch.'" The moment she had left their sight, Draco Malfoy had stepped forward. He had a pale, pointed face, and had been at odds with Harry and Ron ever since they had first met on the train.

"Hey, everyone! Look! Longbottom dropped his Remembrall!" Harry confronted him.

"Give it here, Malfoy!"

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for him to find. How about…up a tree?" And with that, he took off. Harry mounted his own broom, but Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Harry, you mustn't! You heard what Madam Hooch said! You'll get it trouble!" But Harry hadn't seemed to care. He kicked off hard, and chased after Malfoy.

It was hard to see what was happening, but suddenly Harry dived towards the ground and caught the small glass ball in one hand. While disapproving, Hermione had to admit that Harry flew very well. But as Harry landed, Professor McGonagall had come running out of the school.

"Harry Potter! Come with me please!" Still holding his broomstick, Harry had trudged after her. While she had been impressed with his flying, Hermione couldn't help feeling that Harry had got what he deserved.

xxx

A few nights later, Hermione stayed up late, waiting in the Common Room. She had overheard Harry and Ron agreeing to go and duel Malfoy in the trophy room at midnight, and was determined to stop them. She couldn't believe it when she saw Harry still at school the following day, and not only on the Quidditch team, but with a top-of-the-range broomstick! He may have got lucky once, but she wouldn't let him take another risk again. It wasn't long before she heard their voices. Standing up, she moved into the fire light and confronted them.

"Harry, I know what you're about to do, and you really mustn't. What if you get caught! _I_ don't want to lose points for Gryffindor! _I_ don't want Slytherin to win the house cup!" she had yelled at them as they pushed past her and climbed out the portrait hole.

"Go away."

"Alright," Hermione replied as she followed them out of the portrait hole, "but I warned you, just remember that when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so-" but she didn't finish her sentence. She'd turned round to climb back through the portrait hole, only to find out that the Fat Lady had vanished: she was locked out of Gryffindor Tower. "Now what am I meant to do?"

"That's your problem," Ron responded, "come on Harry, we're running late."

"Well I'm not staying here!" she replied indignantly, and began chasing after them as they made their way to the trophy room. Despite her worst fears, they didn't encounter the caretaker, Filch, or his cat, Mrs. Norris. When they reached the trophy room, it was all in darkness. Only a few minutes later, they had heard a noise just outside.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be hiding in a corner." It was Filch. Backing slowly out of the other door, they came face to face with Peeves.

"Oh no, Peeves, don't give us away!" Hermione whispered.

"Tut, tut, ickle firsties out of bed. Should tell Filch I should."

"Get out of the way!" Ron had said angrily, and made a swipe at him.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves yelled at the top of his lungs. They heard Filch's fast footsteps, and looked around in panic. There was only one door off their corridor, and they launched themselves against it. It was locked.

" _Alohomora_!" Hermione whispered, and the door clicked open. Diving inside, they closed it behind them. They could hear Filch moving around outside, but after a few minutes, he move away.

"Thank God that's over," Ron said. Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but they suddenly heard a low growling behind them. Slowly turning round, they were greeted by a fearsome sight.

A gigantic, three-headed dog towered over them; three pairs of mad eyes, three noses sniffing furiously in their direction, rolls of saliva dripping from three powerful sets of jaws. Hermione knew the only reason they were still alive was because they'd taken the dog by surprise, but it had soon got over that. As it let out a loud bark and leapt towards them, Harry, Ron and Hermione had fallen backwards out of the room, and slammed the door closed behind them. They sprinted away, and didn't stop till they reached Gryffindor tower.

"Where on Earth have you three been?" The Fat Lady had returned.

"Never mind that now," Harry panted, "pig snout," and they all collapsed through the portrait hole in exhaustion.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Ron questioned angrily. Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"You don't use your eyes, do you? Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested dubiously.

"No, not the floor!" Hermione snapped, "it was standing on a trapdoor! It's obviously guarding something. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed, before either of you think up another idea to get us killed…or worse, expelled!" And with that, she spun around and marched up the stairs to her dormitory.


	4. The Philosopher's Stone, Part 4

Hermione raced into the Charms classroom and quickly sat down in the only empty seat; to her displeasure, it was next to Ron Weasley. As Hermione pulled her wand and spell books from her bag, Professor Flitwick, the tiny little Charms teacher, climbed on top of his pile of books.

"Now then, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing! Swish and flick! And saying the words clearly is very important too. _Wingardium Leviosa_ , remember." Everyone picked up their wands, swished and flicked, but no-one had any joy; Hermione could see Harry and Seamus Finnigan struggling across the room. Next to her, Ron was getting impatient, and was jabbing his wand angrily.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_!" he shouted.

"Stop, stop, stop," Hermione snapped, "you're going to take someone's eye out. Besides, you're saying it _wrong_. It's _Leviosa_ , not _Leviosar_."

"You do it then, if you're so clever!" Ron spat as a retort.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_!" The feather they were attempting to levitate soared into the air and across the classroom.

"Oh look everyone, Miss Granger's done it! Well done, well done!" Hermione looked round the class smugly, but no-one else seemed impressed.

xxx

Like all of her lessons, Hermione left Charms on her own. She sped along towards the library, but as she did, she overheard Ron and the other Gryffindor boys' conversation.

"It's _Leviosa_ , not _Leviosar_ ," Ron imitated as she pushed past, tears in her eyes.

"I think she heard you," Harry responded.

"So? She must know she doesn't have any friends."

As Hermione passed, she changed direction, and instead headed for the toilets on the second floor. Once there, she locked herself in a cubicle, sat down, and let the tears flow.

Hogwarts was not what she thought it would be like. Yes, the classes were fantastic, and the whole castle was a wonderfully magical place. But Ron had been exactly right. She didn't have any friends. Not real ones, anyway. She'd tried bonding with Parvati and Lavender, but she always felt excluded in the dormitory on a night. Neville was kind, but they always found it hard to communicate. She supposed that she should have made more of an effort, spent less time working and more time socializing. But what was the point now? All the friendships had been forged, and Hermione had been left on the outside. As much as she enjoyed all the quirks of Hogwarts, she wished she could share them with someone.

She didn't know how long she sat there before she heard the door open and someone walk in.

"Hermione?" it was Parvati. "Are you in here? Look, I'm sorry what happened earlier, Ron didn't mean anything by it. Will you come out, please?" Hermione deliberated, but stayed where she was. After a while, she heard Parvati leave.

xxx

Many hours later, Hermione heard the door open again. A horrendous smell hit her nostrils: a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet that never got cleaned.

"Hello?" Hermione managed to ask between her fits of coughing. She held her jumper and shirt up to her mouth as she stepped out of her stall. What she saw rooted her to the spot in fear.

It was a troll. A twelve-foot tall mountain troll with grey, leathery skin, and short, thick legs. Its head was like a small coconut balanced on top of its body, and in one hand it held a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor. Hermione was rooted to the floor, frozen with fear. She had read a lot about mountain trolls of course, but had absolutely no idea how to get out of this situation. Of all the magic she had learnt, nothing she knew would help her against a troll. Her movement had caught the troll's attention, and it launched a massive swipe at her with its club. Hermione dived onto the ground and took shelter under the row of sinks on the far wall. The club landed just inches from her, and she let forth a loud scream. Suddenly, and unbelievably, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley charged into the room.

"Oi, pea-brain!" Ron shouted, throwing a pipe and distracting it. The troll turned away, giving Hermione a chance to escape, but couldn't move. This time, it was Ron who was cornered. Harry, who in Hermione's mind was very brave, charged towards the troll and launched himself onto its back. The troll twisted round and flailed its club, trying to knock Harry off. It was at that moment that Hermione's and Ron's eyes met. Ron knew what to do. Raising his wand, he bellowed " _Wingardium Leviosa_!" and the club left the troll's hand, soared into the air, and came down with a sickening crunch on the troll's head. The troll teetered for a few moments, before it crashed to the floor with a terrible thud. The silence was deafening.

"Is it-is it dead?" Hermione called. Harry rushed over to her and helped her to her feet.

"I don't think so; it's just knocked out." Hermione realised that her stomach was still on show, and quickly dropped her shirt, but she knew Harry had seen, and blushed furiously. He continued to stare at her for a few seconds, his eyes moving down to look at her bare legs below her skirt, but they both jerked around when they heard hurried footsteps outside, and Professors McGonagall and Quirrell rushed in.

"What on Earth were you thinking of? Why aren't you in your dormitory? You were lucky not to be killed! Explain yourselves." Harry and Ron looked dumbstruck. Hermione hated lying, but knew if she did the right thing now, then maybe she might get some friends after all.

"Please, Professor McGonagall, it was me. They came looking for me. I thought I could deal with it…you know, because I've read all about them. If it wasn't for Harry and Ron…I'd be dead right now."

"Well…either way, it was very foolish of you, Miss Granger. How could you expect to take down a mountain troll on your own? I'm very disappointed in you; 5 points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. If you're not hurt, you better get back to Gryffindor Tower." Hermione hurried out and made her way through the castle, slowing down as she approached Gryffindor Tower, smiling to herself. Two months ago, she would have been disgusted about the idea of telling a lie to a teacher. She had always been a rule-abiding, model student, who didn't even mind being called a "teacher's pet." But over the last two months, a rebellious spirit had emerged. Her parents had always encouraged her to eat healthily, but she had indulged in extra dessert as early as the start of term feast. She didn't even feel guilty when she took a night off work, or did something that she would previously never have dreamed of doing. In the short time she had known them, some of Harry and Ron's character seemed to have rubbed off on her; why should school be all about work? Perhaps being friends with them wouldn't be so bad after all.

A few minutes later, Harry and Ron turned up. They stood in silence for a few moments, looking at each other, before Hermione managed a weak smile. "Thanks." And with that, the three of them climbed into the Gryffindor Common Room.

There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and taking down a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.


	5. The Philosopher's Stone, Part 5

Hermione followed Ron up the many wooden steps of the stadium, looking forward to her first ever Quidditch game. She'd never taken much interest in sport, but the way everyone talked about it, Quidditch sounded like it was one of the most exciting aspects of the wizarding world. They took their seats on the back row as the teams made their way out onto the field. Seven Gryffindor players and seven Slytherin players stood in a circle around Madam Hooch, who, after a few short words with both teams, blew her whistle and got the game underway.

Hermione watched enthralled as the game played out in front of her. It was more thrilling than she could have imagined. Gryffindor were soon 40 points up, but Hermione kept glancing up at Harry far above, searching for the golden snitch.

"Will you relax?" Ron said, "he'll be fine!"

"Oh really?" Hermione responded, for at that moment, Harry's broom had suddenly started jerking violently, as though it was trying to buck him off. Hermione squinted worriedly through her binoculars, but she wasn't the only one. Gasps emanated from around the stadium as Harry's broom rolled over and over, with Harry only just hanging on for dear life.

"What's happened to Harry's broom?" she heard Hagrid ask from behind her. "It looks like he's lost control of it; but he can't have…" Suddenly, a thought struck Hermione, and she began desperately searching the crowd.

"What are you doing?" Ron moaned, ashen-faced.

"There!" Hermione exclaimed, pointing. Across the stadium, Snape was sat staring up at Harry, unblinking, chanting incessantly. She jumped down from her seat and set off at a run around the stadium. She hardly had time to apologise as she knocked over poor Professor Quirrell in her haste to reach Snape. Pulling out her wand, she pointed it at Snape's robes, and whispered " _Incendio_!" Instantly, Snape's robes caught fire, and it wasn't long before he noticed, standing up and quickly stamping on them. Grinning to herself, Hermione set off back round the stadium to her seat.

Just as she got there, she saw Harry (now safely back on his broom) dive towards the ground, hand outstretched. Suddenly, he clapped his hand to his mouth and rolled off his broom onto the field.

"It looks like he's gonna be sick!" Hagrid remarked. Harry coughed, and the golden snitch fell into his hand.

xxx

Hermione was waiting for Harry outside the changing rooms. As he emerged, she ran towards him, and threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Oh Harry, thank God your OK! It was Snape, he was jinxing your broom."

"Rubbish!" Hagrid said, approaching them, "Snape is a Hogwarts teacher, why would he do that?" Hermione let go of Harry, her cheeks again going slightly red.

"He tried to get past that giant three-headed dog at Hallowe'en."

"How do you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid demanded.

"Fluffy?" Harry began incredulously, "that thing's got a name?"

"Of course it's got a name, he's mine!"

"Well we think we know why it's there," replied Hermione, "we think it's guarding something."

"Listen, that's got nothing to do with you. Whatever Fluffy's guarding is between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

"Ah, so there's someone called Nicholas Flamel involved?" Harry exclaimed triumphantly. Hagrid looked furious.

xxx

Hermione walked down the stairs into the Gryffindor Common Room, dragging her trunk behind her. It was nearly deserted, but Harry and Ron were sat in a corner playing a game of Wizard Chess. As she approached, she saw Ron's queen violently behead Harry's bishop, and drag it off the board.

"That's totally barbaric!"

"That's Wizard Chess," Ron replied. "I see you've packed."

"I'm going home to see my parents over Christmas." It was true. Hermione felt bad for not missing her parents, although she had sent regular owls to them. But there was only a certain amount of words you could fit in a letter. There was so much Hermione was looking forward to telling her parents about; her lessons, the wonders of the castle, and the adventures she had shared with her two best friends.

"You will keep looking for Flamel while I'm away, won't you?" Hermione queried, "and send me an owl if you find anything?"

"Hermione, we've looked a hundred times!" Ron responded indignantly. They had indeed searched every book they could lay their hands on. While Harry was adamant he had heard the name before, he couldn't remember where, and that made it very difficult to know where to start searching. He wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ ; nor could he be found in _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ ; he was even absent from _A Study of Recent Developments in History_.

"There's always the Restricted Section," Hermione said, grinning mischievously.

"And how exactly are we going to get in?" Ron demanded.

"Oh, I'm sure if you put your heads together you'll think of something." Hermione looked at Harry. Once again, she had a sudden urge to hug him. She didn't know what it was, but there was something about Harry that drew her to him. She didn't know how she'd make it through the next two weeks without him.

xxx

Christmas was one of Hermione's favourite times of the year. It had been a long time since they'd had snow in central London, but this year, they were in luck. Hermione woke on Christmas morning to see a light smattering of snow in the back garden. Jumping out of bed excitedly, she grabbed her stocking, ran through to her parent's room and shouted: "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Hermione!" Her mum responded. Hermione jumped onto the bed, and squeezed in between her parents. Eagerly, she ripped open her presents, but had to hide her disappointment of receiving sugar-free snacks. Her journey on the Hogwarts Express had been the first time in her life that Hermione had been able to buy unhealthy snacks and sweets without feeling guilty about it; both of her dentist parents had always promoted healthy eating. While she had put up with it, albeit reluctantly, Hermione had refused to adopt braces: she didn't find them attractive, and wanted at least some freedom from her parents. Making friends with Harry and Ron had only strengthened her rebellious spirit.

While Hermione's parents always wanted her to eat healthily, she was allowed leeway at Christmas. Her father cooked up the traditional full English breakfast to start the day, before she spent the morning opening her presents. Lots of her presents were books or parchment, but Hermione was surprised to find she had presents from her school friends. Ron had bought Hermione her very own wizard's chess set, while Harry had sent her a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"Hermione, what are these?" her dad asked curiously.

"They're a type of wizard sweet. When they say every flavour, they MEAN every flavour." Her dad popped one in his mouth, but a second later, he descended into a coughing fit.

"Wow," he spluttered. "I wasn't expecting a sweet to taste of liver!"

"It's just a lucky dip really," Hermione laughed.

After all the presents were opened, the family sat down to enjoy a sumptuous lunch cooked up by Hermione's mother, while chatting to Hermione about life at Hogwarts. She had always found time to send home owls every so often, but there was only so much she could put in a letter.

"My classes are getting really interesting now, now that we've got past the basics," said Hermione. "Like in Charms, we've started to make stuff fly, and in Transfiguration, we're learning how to change something into something else."

"And what are your classmates like?" her mother asked.

"Oh, they're great! I mean some mess around a bit, but I get on with them all." Hermione felt bad about lying to her parents, but couldn't bring herself to tell them about the bullying she'd received from some of the Slytherins, especially from Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

"And what about Harry and Ron? Sending you Christmas presents; something going on that you're not telling us?" her dad teased.

"Dad, shut up! They're just friends, who happen to be boys. And anyway, I'm enjoying the work too much to think about stuff like that." But that was another lie. She had thought about it. Lying awake at night, treasuring her brief moments of physical contact with him. Hermione knew how she felt about him, she just didn't know if Harry felt the same way.


	6. The Philosopher's Stone, Part 6

As Hermione made her way down towards Hagrid's hut with Harry and Ron, memories of the past few weeks chased themselves around inside her head. When she had returned after Christmas, she had been shocked to hear that Harry had been wandering the castle late at night, three nights in a row no less, but was disappointed that he hadn't managed to find out who Nicholas Flamel was.

But their luck had changed just a few days later. Neville had turned up in Gryffindor Tower under the Leg-Locker Curse. Harry (kind, sweet Harry) had given Neville a Chocolate Frog in sympathy. And to their complete surprise, none other than Nicholas Flamel turned up on the back of the card. A quick scan through a book Hermione had taken out of the library revealed that Flamel was famous for his creation of the Philosopher's Stone, which could grant eternal life and endless gold.

"I bet you anything that's what Fluffy's guarding!" Ron had declared. "We need to go and see Hagrid, find out if he knows anything."

As they arrived at Hagrid's, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were drawn to. It was stifling hot inside. There was a roaring fire in the hearth, despite the warmness of the day.

"So…yeh wanted to ask me summit?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "We know about the Philosopher's Stone."

"What?!" Hagrid looked outraged. "Listen, I don't know how you found out about it, but just forget about. It's perfectly well guarded."

"But Hagrid," Hermione interrupted, "we were only wondering what else was guarding it, what other teachers had put defences in place." Hagrid sighed, exasperated.

"Fine! I can't see what harm it can do yeh. Obviously Dumbledore borrowed Fluffy from me, and he did a bit 'imself, o' course. Then a couple o' other teachers did enchantments…Professor McGonagall…Professor Sprout…Professor Snape-"

"SNAPE?!" The trio shouted.

"Yeah, o' course! You're not still on about 'im are yeh? He's protectin' the Stone, he's not about ter steal it!" But Hermione had just glanced at the fire, and all thoughts of the Philosopher's Stone were driven from her mind.

"Hagrid, is that a dragon egg?!"

"Well-" Hagrid started.

"Where did you get it?" Ron said eagerly, crouching down next to the fire to examine it.

"Won it," Hagrid replied, sounding quite pleased with himself. "Off some bloke down in the village. Seemed quite glad ter be rid of it, if you ask me. Anyway, I've bin doin' some readin'. Keep the egg in the fire, then feed 'em ev'ry half hour on brandy mixed with chicken blood when it hatches."

"But Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house_ ," Hermione tried to reason with him. Hagrid ignored her, and started stoking the fire and humming merrily.

xxx

If Hermione thought things were bad now, they only got worse over the following week. Two days later, the three of them received a letter from Hagrid. _It's hatching_. Later that same morning, they raced down to Hagrid's and found the egg sitting on his table, shaking violently, with deep cracks snaking across it. Suddenly, there was a frantic scratching noise; the egg split open and out fell the baby dragon. A jet black dragon with wings disproportionally-sized to its body, stubby horns and bulging, orange eyes. But just as Hagrid began explaining the beauty of the Norwegian Ridgeback, he spotted none other than Draco Malfoy peering in through the window.

So now they had another problem; what would happen if Malfoy let slip that Hagrid was keeping an illegal dragon in his hut? They tried to persuade Hagrid to let him go, but the problem was Hagrid had become very attached to it.

"I've decided to call him Norbert. He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Where's Mummy?" Just when they'd given up hope of ever getting rid of Norbert, the brilliant Harry had a brilliant idea. Ron sent a letter to his brother Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania, and he agreed to come and rescue the dragon from them. But just days before the rendezvous with Charlie, there was a hitch. Ron had returned from feeding Norbert with a bitten hand which soon swelled in size and turned a nasty green colour, forcing him to be confined to the hospital wing.

"Don't worry Ron," Hermione reassured him soothingly, "it'll all be over by midnight on Saturday." But this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright in bed and his face turned the same colour as his hand.

"Oh no! Midnight on Saturday! Malfoy came in and borrowed one of my books, and it had Charlie's letter in it! He's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert!"

"Well there's no time to change the plan now," Harry responded, "we'll just have to risk it. At least we've got the Invisibility Cloak. Malfoy doesn't know about that."

xxx

So, filled with anxiety, Harry and Hermione made their way down to Hagrid's to collect Norbert.

"He's got lots o' rats an' brandy fer the journey, and I've packed his teddy in case he gets lonely. Bye, bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, blowing his nose with a large handkerchief, "Mummy will never forget you!"

Hermione would never be able to work out how they got back up through the castle with a heavy dragon without being caught. As they reached the Astronomy Tower, they nearly dropped Norbert's crate as a scuffle broke out not ten feet in front of them.

"Detention!" It was Professor McGonagall. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Draco Malfoy, how _dare_ you be out of bed at this hour!"

"Professor, you don't understand. Harry Potter's coming…he's got a dragon!"

"What _utter_ rubbish! Harry Potter? A dragon? If you're going to lie, at least try to make it convincing!"

The climb up the tower seemed much easier after that, and they gratefully pulled the cloak off as they reached the top. Chuckling about Malfoy, they didn't have long to wait until Charlie and his friends arrived. They fastened Norbert into a special harness Charlie had brought with him, and at last the dragon was going…going… _gone_. Harry made to descend the stairs, but Hermione quickly threw out an arm.

"Aren't we forgetting something?" Picking up the cloak, she threw it back over them, and they set off back to Gryffindor Tower.

The events of the evening had left Hermione with adrenaline coursing through her, and being so physically close to Harry only increased her excitement. So, as they rounded a corner, despite the dangers, she stuck out a leg and tripped him over. Right on cue, she fell down on top of him; her face just inches away from his, and her hands pushed hard against his torso. Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find out that despite his short time on the Quidditch team, he was already becoming a little toned. She had a strong urge to kiss him, but thought it might give the game away that it was more than just an accident. But before she could instigate anything else, a voice sounded behind them.

"Well, well, well," Filch whispered, "we _are_ in trouble now, aren't we?"

In all of the commotion, the Cloak had blown right off them.


	7. The Philosopher's Stone, Part 7

Things couldn't have been worse. Filch took them to Professor McGonagall's office where they sat and waited for her. Hermione trembled, kicking herself. Why on Earth had she done that? One wild rush of adrenaline, she'd landed herself and Harry in detention, and it was entirely her fault. She couldn't see any way out of their situation. Not only had they been up the Astronomy Tower, which was out of bounds except for classes, they had Norbert and the Invisibility Cloak to explain for.

Had Hermione thought it couldn't have been worse? She was wrong. When Professor McGonagall turned up, she had Neville in tow.

"Harry!" Neville burst out, "I was trying to warn you! Malfoy was going to catch you, he said you had a drag-" Harry shook his head to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen.

"I never would have believed it of any of you. I think I've got a pretty good idea of what's going on. You two sold a made-up story to Draco Malfoy about a dragon. I've already caught him. I guess you think it's funny that Longbottom heard it as well. Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. And Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor House meant more to you. You will each receive detention, and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"50?" Hermione squeaked.

"50 points _each_. Now get to bed. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students." Hermione couldn't remember getting back to her bed, but when she did, she cried herself to sleep. It was the worst she'd ever felt in her life. How could she ever make up for this?

xxx

Two days later, Harry, Hermione and Neville all received notes informing them that they would be serving their detentions that evening. So at eleven o'clock, they made their way down to the entrance hall were they met Filch and Malfoy.

"Follow me," said Filch. "I bet you'll think twice about breaking school rules now, eh?" he leered at them. "Hard work and pain are the best teachers, if you ask me. It's a shame that they let the old punishments die out…string you up by your wrists for a few days…" They headed out across the dark grounds to Hagrid's hut.

"That you, Filch? Hurry up, you're late, I want ter get started."

Hermione's heart rose. If they were spending detention with Hagrid, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Her relief had obviously shown on her face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be having fun with Hagrid, girl? Well think again, it's into the forest with you, and I doubt you'll all come out in one piece."

"The forest?" Malfoy had stopped dead. "W-we can't go in there. It's got all sorts of things in there…werewolves, I heard." Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. It was nice to hear Malfoy sounding not so cool for once.

"You will if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid. "Now listen here, cause its dangerous stuff we're doin' tonight, and I don' want no one takin' risks. See this stuff shinin' on the ground? That's unicorn blood. Poor creature's been injured summit bad, second one this week. We're gonna try and find it, maybe put it out its misery. We've got a lot o' ground to cover, so we'll split up. Me, Draco an' Neville will go one way; an' Harry, Hermione an' Fang'll go the other. If anyone gets in ter trouble, send up red sparks; if yeh find the unicorn, send up green sparks."

Hermione kept close to Fang, pulling her coat tighter around her and shivering with a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. They didn't come across any living creatures, but the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck kept standing up, and she had the strange feeling that she was being watched. Hermione slipped her small hand into Harry's, and he squeezed hers reassuringly. They walked further into the heart of the forest, where the trees became thicker and closer together; the splashes of blood seemed to be getting larger and more frequent. Suddenly they emerged into a clearing. They could see something gleaming bright white on the ground. Approaching slowly, they saw a saddening sight. It was the unicorn, and it was dead. Its long legs were stuck out at odd angles, and its pearly-white mane was spread across the dark leaves. Gazing down on it, a single tear fell from Hermione's face. But their mourning was interrupted as Fang let out a booming bark.

A hooded figure was slithering across the clearing, gliding noiselessly across the leaves. The dark individual paused at the fallen unicorn, lowered their head to the wound, and began to drink its blood.

She couldn't help herself. Hermione screamed, so loudly she was convinced everyone in the castle would hear it. The figure turned to face them, blood dripping from its mouth, and Harry fell to the floor beside her, clutching his head and shouting out in pain.

"Harry! Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione knelt down next to him, half-dragging Harry backwards as he stumbled backwards over tree roots, hands still clasped to his forehead. But the being was rising to its feet, travelling quickly towards them. As he bore down on them, Hermione pushed Harry protectively away from their assailant; before she could do anything else, he forced Hermione to the ground, hot breath on her face. She fought with all her might to escape, but his grip on her was far too powerful. His hands scrabbled around, ripping open her coat and exposing her thin shirt; but at that moment Hermione heard hooves behind her and her attacker withdrew, she saw a large shape jump over her, and managed to sit up in time to see the cloaked individual disappearing back into the shadows.

Climbing slowly to her feet, Hermione wrapped the remains of her jacket around her and saw their rescuer for what he was: a centaur with white-blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you alright?" he said, helping Hermione and Hermione back to their feet.

"Ye-yeah," Harry stammered, still rubbing his forehead. "What was that?" The centaur didn't answer, instead giving Harry a searching look, eyes lingering on his scar.

"You are the Potter boy. It is not safe here. You had better get back to Hagrid. Can you ride?

"My name is Firenze," he added, as Harry climbed deftly onto his back. It was only when Firenze trotted over to her that Hermione realized she had been holding her breath; she let it out quickly and climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms firmly around Harry's waist, still shaking from her ordeal.

"What was that?" Harry repeated, but Firenze did not answer him. He walked in silence for a long time, before he stopped suddenly in a patch of moonlight.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No, we only use horn and tail hair in potions."

"That is because it is a terrible thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death. But the moment the blood touches your lips, you will live a half-life, a cursed life."

"But who would be that desperate?" Hermione interrupted. "Surely death's better than being cursed forever?"

"It is," Firenze agreed. "Unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else: something that will make you immortal. Do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Philosopher's Stone!" exclaimed Harry.

"Wait…Firenze," Hermione began, "are you saying that that was You-Know-"

"Harry? Hermione?" Hagrid was running down the path towards them, Fang and Neville in his wake. "Are yeh all right?"

"This is where I leave you," said Firenze. "You are safe now."

xxx

Ron had fallen asleep when they returned to the common room, but he was soon wide awake when they began telling him what happened in the forest.

"Snape wants the Stone for Voldemort," Harry said, pacing up and down in front of the dying fire. "And Voldemort is hiding in the forest…if Snape gets the Stone then Voldemort will come and finish me off."

"But Harry," Hermione began, concern on her face. "everyone knows Dumbledore is the only one You-Know-Who is afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who can't do anything.

With Dumbledore around, you are safe."


	8. The Philosopher's Stone, Part 8

Standing in front of the door to the forbidden corridor on the third floor, Hermione couldn't believe how fast her afternoon had changed.

One moment, she had been sunbathing under the branches of a tree, shoes and socks off, enjoying the end of the exams; the next, racing down to Hagrid's with Harry. The latter had deduced (quite correctly) that Hagrid had accidently let slip to Snape how to get past Fluffy. Running back up to the castle, they had discovered, to their dread, that Professor Dumbledore had left the school. Knowing there was now nothing standing in the way of Snape and the Stone, Harry decided that he must try to get to it first and stop him. Hermione and Ron had both persuaded Harry to let them go with him, and so they had prepared to set off under the Invisibility Cloak. But before they could leave the common room, they had been confronted by Neville, who was determined to stop them going out again. When he refused to stand aside, Hermione had been forced to use the Full Body-Bind on him. But as Hermione prepared herself to do the most dangerous thing she had ever done, she couldn't help feeling that leaving Neville lying rigid and motionless on the floor was a very bad omen.

xxx

Harry pushed open the door, and they were greeted by a series of low, rumbling growls. Three noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though Fluffy couldn't see them.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," Ron answered. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "You two see if you can open the trapdoor…" He put a wooden flute, a Christmas present from Hagrid, to his mouth and began to play. It wasn't really a tune, but at the first note, the beast's eyes began to droop, and it slumped to the ground, fast asleep. Ron and Hermione carefully climbed over the dog's massive paws. Bending down, they seized the ring of the trapdoor, and swung it up and open.

"Want to go first, Hermione?" Ron asked. Hermione looked down the dark hole; she couldn't make out the bottom.

"No I don't!" But Harry, who was still playing, waved to get their attention and pointed at himself.

"You want to go first?" said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep playing." Harry handed the flute over, and Hermione put it to her lips and resumed playing. She had never taken up a musical instrument at primary school, but she improvised a pleasant-sounding melody. Harry lowered himself carefully through the hole and disappeared out of sight. A few tense seconds later, they heard his voice.

"It's OK! You can jump, it's a soft landing!" Ron jumped down after him, with Hermione following. Cold, damp air rushed past her as she fell down, down, down until…FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump she landed on something soft.

"We must be miles under the school!"

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," she heard Ron's voice say. Hermione jumped up in alarm as she felt snakelike tendrils twisting around her ankles.

" _Lucky_! Look at you both!" She managed to struggle over to the wall and watched in horror as Devil's Snare began to bind the boys tightly. "Stop moving! It's Devil's Snare! What did Professor Sprout say…it likes the dark and the damp…"

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.

"Yes, of course…but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, losing her head.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD!" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT!"

"Oh, right! _Incendio_!" she sent a jet of flame at the plant, and in a matter of seconds, in loosened its grip as it cringed away from the light and the warmth.

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," Harry said, joining her by the wall.

"Yeah. And lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis," said Ron. "There's no wood… _honestly_."

They set off down a low stone passageway, and after a couple of minutes, emerged into a high chamber. It was full of jewel-bright keys, fluttering and tumbling around the room.

"We've got to catch the key to the door!" Harry exclaimed. "Probably a big, old-fashioned one…probably silver, like the handle." Hermione spotted a broomstick propped up against the wall.

"Go on, Harry…you're the youngest seeker in a century!" Swinging a leg over the broom, Harry kicked off. The moment he rose into the air, however, the keys dive bombed him. Hermione couldn't see what was happening, but Harry emerged grasping the key tightly in his hand. Tossing her the key, Hermione unlocked the door, allowing Harry to fly through and escape his pursuers.

xxx

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all, but as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room. They were standing on the edge of a giant chess board, behind the black chessmen, which towered above them and were hewn from black stone. Across the chamber they could see the white pieces.

"What do we have to do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron responded. "We're going to have to play our way across the room; I think we're going to have to be chessmen." The pieces seemed to have been listening, for at Ron's words, a knight, a bishop and a castle walked off the board, leaving three empty spaces.

Following his instructions, Ron began to direct the pieces around the board. Hermione didn't fully understand what was happening, but very soon, there were only a few pieces left on the board. Ron looked hard in thought.

"We're nearly there…yes…it's the only way…I've got to be taken!"

"NO!" Harry and Hermione shouted in unison.

"That's chess! You've got to make some sacrifices! Listen, if we don't hurry, Snape might already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative. Hermione watched in horror as Ron moved forward. The white queen advanced on him, struck him down, and dragged him off the board. Harry stepped in front of the king, who took off his crown and threw it down at his feet. They had won.

As they walked through the door to the next room, they glanced back at Ron; he was lying in a crumpled heap by the wall, motionless.

"He'll be alright," said Harry reassuringly.

xxx

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils. Pulling their robes up to their noses, they saw a troll, even larger than the one they had tackled, laying out cold on the floor.

"I'm glad we didn't have to take out that one," Harry coughed, as they climbed carefully around it.

Filled with trepidation, Hermione opened the next door. But there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles. As they stepped over the threshold, purple flames sprang up behind them; at the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. Hermione picked up a roll of paper lying next to the bottles and read:

 _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

 _Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

 _One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

 _Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

 _Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

 _Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

 _Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

 _To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

 _First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

 _You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

 _Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

 _But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

 _Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

 _Neither dwarf nor giant hold death on their insides;_

 _Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

 _Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Hermione let out a great sigh and a laugh.

" _Brilliant_. This isn't magic, it's logic; a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic; they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?"

"Of course not." Hermione began pacing up and down in front of the table, re-reading the paper. This was right up her street; as a child, she had always loved puzzles. But while they had all been harmless, Hermione knew that she had to get it right this time; it was a matter of life or death. After about 5 minutes, she clapped her hands together. "Got it. The smallest one will get us through the black flames."

"Right. And which will get you back through the purple?"

"No! Harry, I'm coming with you!"

"Hermione! You can't! What if Voldemort's there?" Hermione smiled.

"So? I'm not scared, I'll be with you." And before she knew what she was doing, she walked towards Harry and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Together?"

Harry looked stunned. "Ye-yeah. Together."

And after they each took a swig of potion, they walked hand in hand through the black flames.


	9. The Philosopher's Stone, Part 9

**WARNING: It's another relatively harmless chapter, but there is a very short passage where Quirrell gropes Hermione. I haven't intended it to be lazy writing, I wanted to portray Quirrell as more of a villain. It isn't full on rape, but you might not be comfortable with it. Just letting you know.**

Hermione and Harry emerged into the final room, which was small and at first glance appeared empty. But then Hermione noticed a large ornate mirror with a golden frame: the mirror of Erised. And there was already someone stood in front of it.

It was Quirrell.

" _You_!" gasped Harry. Quirrell turned around to face them.

"Me," he said calmly. His face wasn't twitching at all. "I wondered if I'd be seeing you here, Potter."

"But I thought…Snape…"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, but it wasn't his usual quivering tremble; it was cold and sharp. "Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he? Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

"But at that Quidditch match; Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no. _I_ tried to kill you. And if _you_ , Miss Granger, hadn't knocked me over, I would have succeeded."

The mention of her name seemed to jerk Hermione out of her stupor. She couldn't take it in. All year, Snape had been displaying suspicious behavior; interrogating Quirrell in the forest, sneaking off to the third floor at Hallowe'en. Unless…

"You let the troll in!" She exclaimed.

"Indeed. Snape already suspected me by then, and he wasn't fooled by my little diversion. Not only did that giant dog fail to bite Snape's leg off properly, but my troll failed to beat you two to death! No matter…I'll make sure of that tonight." He snapped his fingers, and ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry and Hermione.

"It was you in the forest!"

"Certainly. I would have killed you both off then, if it wasn't for that centaur."

"Bu-but," Hermione spluttered, "yo-you were going t-to…to rape me!"

"Oh come now, Miss Granger, there's still plenty of time for that. Now silence. I see the Stone…I'm presenting it to my master…but how do I get it? Master, help me!"

And to Hermione's horror, a voice answered; a voice that seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Use the boy…"

"Yes…Potter…come here…" Quirrell snapped his fingers again, and Harry was released from his bonds. "Come here and tell me what you see." Harry walked towards Quirrell. Heart racing, Hermione could see Harry stood in front of the mirror, nervous and scared-looking. "Well? What do you see?"

"I-I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore…I've just won the House Cup for Gryffindor…" Quirrell cursed and pushed Harry out of the way furiously. But then Hermione heard that mysterious voice again.

"He lies…let me speak to him…" To her horror, Quirrell reached up and began to slowly unwrap his turban. What was going on? Quirrell's turban fell away; his head looked strangely small without it. And then he turned around. Where there should have been the back of Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Hermione had ever seen. It was chalk white, with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils.

"Harry Potter…see what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour…I have form only when I can share another's body…but when I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. Now…why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?" Hermione couldn't believe it. Somehow, impossibly, _Harry had got the Stone_. "Do you want to see your parents again Harry? Together, we can bring them back…"

"Don't give it to him, Harry!" Hermione yelled.

" _Crucio_!" Pain like nothing Hermione had felt before coursed through her body. The pain was all-consuming; it felt like white-hot knives were piercing every inch of her skin, she screamed more loudly than she'd ever screamed in her life-

And then it stopped. Hermione simply lay there, he chest rising and falling rapidly, sweat covering her body.

"Give me the Stone, Potter, or she'll get much worse!"

"No! Harry!" Hermione shouted hoarsely. "Run for it!"

Suddenly, Quirrell descended on her, his face twisted with malice. Pinning Hermione to the ground with his knees, he reached down towards her. His hands ripped open her shirt, his hands cold against her exposed stomach; Hermione cried out they dug painfully into her chest. Through her tears, Hermione could make out Harry attempting to drag Quirrell off her. She expected Quirrell to brush him off, but instead he screamed in pain. He was sat up, howling in agony, his skin blistering before his eyes. Hermione tried to slither out from underneath him, but he was still pinning her to the ground. Terrified, Hermione shut her eyes: she could feel Quirrell on top of her, screaming in pain, Voldemort still screeching, but now she could make out other voices too, maybe in her own head…

Hermione felt something large fall down on top of her, and she fainted.

xxx

Hermione was woken by the sound of bird song. She lay there, listening to the noise, sinking into her soft pillows.

She opened her eyes. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger." Suddenly, she remembered what had just happened.

"Pro-Professor Dumbledore? W-what's going on? Where am I? Quirrell?! Has he got the Stone?" Hermione tried to sit up, but Dumbledore pushed her gently back down onto her pillows.

"Calm yourself, you're a little behind the times. Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir-"

"Please relax, Miss Granger, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out." Hermione looked around her. She was in the hospital wing, lying in a bed with white linen sheets, sunlight streaming in through the high windows. Harry was lying in a bed next to her, looking injured, but awake.

"How long have I been here?"

"Three days. Mr. Weasley will be very pleased to hear that you and Mr. Potter have both come round."

"Bu-but the Stone…" Dumbledore smiled again.

"I see you are not to be distracted. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take the Stone from Harry. I arrived to prevent that. The Stone has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Hermione said blankly. "But your friend, Nicholas Flamel-"

"Oh, you know about Nicholas?" Dumbledore laughed. "You _did_ do the thing properly, didn't you?"

"But doesn't that mean he and his wife will die?"

"They have enough Elixir to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die. I have to leave you now, but Madam Pomfrey will be able to look after you until are ready to leave."

Hermione waited for the door to close behind Dumbledore and his footsteps to recede, before she climbed out of bed and tip-toed across to Harry's bed. He smiled up at her as she approached.

"Hey," he said, as Hermione sat down on the edge of his bed and took his hand in her own. She noticed his eyes travel over her body; from her bushy hair, over her loose-fitting t-shirt and pajama shorts, and down her naked legs to her bare feet. Unless her eyes were deceiving her, Hermione was sure that Harry had hardened somewhat beneath his sheets.

"Hey, yourself."

"Listen, Hermione," Harry began. "I think we need to talk." Hermione paused. This was it; this was the moment when Harry would reciprocate his feelings for her. "I've been thinking about something you said to Quirrell…about when we were in the forest…you said he tried to assault you…why didn't you tell me?"

Suddenly, all her memories came flooding back: Quirrell pinning her to the floor, his hands scrabbling over her bare skin, his breath hot on her face. Hermione blushed and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering slightly, consciously aware how much of her body Harry could see. She could feel the bruises on her small chest were Quirrell had abused her. Before she could stop herself, she burst into tears and buried her face in his shoulder.

"I…I…I was too scared! I…I thought Professor Quirrell w-would have come after me again if he f-found out!"

"Hermione! It's OK! He didn't actually…did he?"

"No, all thanks to you! I-If you hadn't p-pulled him off me…" She was now convinced that she could feel Harry pushing up at her under his duvet. It took a long time for Hermione to calm down, but when she did, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

xxx

Hermione and Harry were allowed to leave the hospital wing later that day, and made their way down to the Great Hall for the end-of-year feast. They had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on one final checkup, so the Great Hall was already full by the time they arrived. It was bedecked with green and silver streamers and banners to celebrate Slytherin winning the House Cup. As they entered, all eyes turned to look at them; Hermione became aware of how physically close to Harry she was, and moved away slightly, worried and embarrassed about what people might think of them. As they took their seats, Dumbledore stood up to address them.

"Another year gone! And what a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than when you arrived…

"Now, the House Cup needs awarding, and Slytherin are in first place with 472 points."

A storm of cheering broke out from the Slytherin table; Hermione could see Draco Malfoy banging is goblet on the table in glee.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account. First…to Mr. Ronald Weasley," Ron went purple in the face, "for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House 50 points.

"Second, to Miss Hermione Granger…for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House 50 points." Hermione couldn't believe it: Gryffindor were 100 points up.

"Third, to Mr. Harry Potter…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House 60 points." The noise was deafening. Yelling herself hoarse, Hermione realised that Gryffindor had exactly the same amount of points as Slytherin: they had tied for the House Cup. Gradually, the hall fell silent again.

"There are all kinds of courage; it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award 10 points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, "we need a little change of decoration." He clapped his hands, and in an instant, the green hangings became scarlet, the silver became gold; and the huge Slytherin serpent behind the staff table was replaced by a towering Gryffindor lion. Hermione thought back to everything that had happened that year; Gryffindor winning Quidditch, knocking out mountain trolls…none of that compared to this.

xxx

Hermione had forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but she had nothing to worry about; on the contrary, she was ecstatic that she had the best marks in the year. Harry and even Ron had achieved good marks.

Suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, and they were boarding the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Hermione and Ron played Exploding Snap and ate Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans as they sped back towards London. Hermione went to the bathroom to change back into her regular clothes: despite everything that had happened, she still didn't feel comfortable changing in front of the two boys.

"You must come and stay this summer," Ron said as they headed back through the barrier on Platform 9¾, "both of you…I'll send you an owl."

"Hermione! Over here!" Looking around, Hermione saw her parents hurrying towards her, smiles on their faces. She ran towards them, and they pulled her into a hug. "How was your term?" they asked as Hermione pulled away. Hermione hesitated. Did she dare tell her parents about the events of the past week? Did she confide in her parents about her harrowing experience with Professor Quirrell? But before she could formulate a response, there was a tap on her shoulder. It was Harry.

"You OK?" he asked her quietly. "I just want to say…I'm really happy I met you this year," he said quickly, as though he'd been dying to say it for days. "My aunt and uncle probably won't let me use Hedwig, so send me letters whenever you can, OK?" Hermione beamed at him.

"Of course I will!" And to her surprise, Harry pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I'll really miss you," he whispered to her quietly. He slowly walked away, sending one last smile back at her, head hung as he set off for a summer of loneliness and bullying. Hermione left King's Cross with her parents, tears of joy still shining on her face.

 **Well we've reached the end of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for sticking with it, I know it's been a long time since I uploaded chapter 1. Thank you for the reviews, they've been a great help, this is the first big story that I've written. I know lots of it has been canon so far, but I hope to change that very soon. I'm not sure when I'll be uploading the Chamber of Secrets (I've got lots of university work to be getting on with), but hopefully it'll be soonish.**


	10. The Chamber of Secrets, Part 1

Hermione sat moodily at the kitchen table pushing her cornflakes around her bowl. Her parents had given up asking her what was wrong; Hermione guessed that they assumed she was simply going through that phase of adolescence, and she was more than happy for them to believe that. Hermione felt ashamed that she couldn't tell her parents that the real reason she was miserable was because she missed Hogwarts. In the first week of the summer, Hermione had talked incessantly about it; her parents had had a hard job getting her to discuss anything else. But as the summer wore on and the magic slowly began to die away, so had her happiness. She had re-read all of her books countless times, but it wasn't the same as being able to practice new spells.

She also felt guilty. She had promised Harry that she would send regular letters to him, but it was only when she sat down to write that Hermione realised that she had no way of sending it to him. Harry hadn't given her an address, and although she had looked him up in the phonebook, Hermione didn't dare deliver it; what if she got Harry in trouble?

While Harry had told her that he probably wouldn't have been able to write to her, Hermione was upset that she hadn't heard from Ron; after all, he had access to an owl, knew perfectly well that she loved everything about the wizarding world, and that she had no way to keep up with its goings on back in the Muggle world.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang on the window, and they all jumped in surprise. Hermione's dad leapt to his feet, walked quickly over to the kitchen window and pushed it open. Looking around, he let out a yell of surprise, reached down into the bushes, and pulled out what looked like a grey feather duster.

"What the-?" as he walked back to them, Hermione saw that it was in fact a very old, bedraggled-looking owl. A rush of emotions rushed through her as she read the letter attached to its leg. She had been so cut off from the wizarding world that if she didn't have her textbooks, Hermione might have thought that she had dreamed it all.

"It's from Ron!" she exclaimed ecstatically.

"What does he say?" her mother asked.

"Errm…" Hermione paused. Ron had said that he was planning to "rescue" Harry from the Dursleys, whatever that meant. Her parents had approved of Harry and Ron…or at least about everything she had told them; and somehow Hermione thought that their opinion may change if they found out about Ron's irresponsible rescue plan. "Oh…he's just asking how I am, wondering if we want to meet up in Diagon Alley…"

"Well I'm sure we can arrange that, why don't you write back and let them know that we can go next Wednesday."

xxx

"Mum? Dad? Do you think you'll be OK getting my money? I want to go and look out for Harry and Ron." Hermione stepped out onto the sunlit marble steps outside Gringotts Wizarding bank, and surveyed the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. Her face broke out into a huge smile as she saw two of her favourite people standing a short distance away.

"Harry! Hagrid! Over her!" She ran down towards them, and threw her arms around Harry. They had only been apart for two months, but there so much Hermione wanted to say to Harry, and she couldn't stop herself from expelling about a million questions at once. "What happened to you glasses? Oh it's _wonderful_ to see you both! How have you been? What happened with you and the Dursleys? Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"

"Woah, slow down Hermione!" Harry laughed. "Yeah, I will be, just as soon as I find the Weasleys."

"Yeh won't have long ter wait," Hagrid said with a grin. Harry and Hermione looked round, and saw Ron, Fred, George and Percy sprinting towards them; followed by who Hermione assumed were Ron's parents and his younger sister.

"Oh, Harry, oh my dear," Mrs. Weasley fussed, "you could have been anywhere-"

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley," Hagrid replied grimly. "Well, gotta be off," he finished, having his hand rung by Ron's mum. Hermione joined they others as they all walked back the way she had come. She led them over to her parents, who were standing nervously by the counter, waiting to be introduced.

"But you're _Muggles_!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed in delight. "What's that you've got there? Oh, you're exchanging Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Hermione's dad's hand.

Once they, Harry and the Weasleys had emerged from their respective vaults, their party went their separate ways; Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to a secondhand book shop, Fred and George were meeting up with their friend Lee Jordan, while Mr. Weasley was taking Hermione's parents for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry, Hermione and Ron, meanwhile, strolled off along the cobbled street, enjoying strawberry ice creams while examining the varied and fascinating shop window displays.

An hour later, they headed to Flourish and Blotts were they were surprised to find a large group of people congregated outside the entrance. Hermione squealed with delight when she read a large banner that had been stretched across the upper windows:

 _GILDEROY LOCKHART_

 _Will be signing copies of his autograph_

 _MAGICAL ME_

 _Today 12:30pm to 4:30pm_

"We can actually meet him! I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!" They managed to push their way inside, and saw a long queue snaking all the way to the back of the shop, were Gilderoy Lockhart sat. The three of them sneaked up the line to where the Weasleys were standing, and Lockhart slowly came into view. He was every bit as magnificent as Hermione had hoped. His forget-me-not blue robes perfectly matched his eyes and his hat, which was perched on top of his blonde, flyaway hair. As they reached the front of the queue, Lockhart looked up and saw Harry; leaping to his feet, he dived forward, seized Harry's arm, and shouted, "It _can't_ be Harry Potter?" A reporter from the Daily Prophet was busy taking pictures, and Harry was becoming redder and redder. Eventually, Lockhart straitened up and cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted a copy of my autobiography, _Magical Me_. But he will very soon be getting more than just that. He and his classmates will very soon be receiving the _real_ magical me. It is my great pleasure in announcing that this September, I will be taking the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

Hermione couldn't believe what was happening. One of the bravest, daring and most attractive wizards of recent times would be coming to teach he about one of the most exciting subjects that she studied. Professor Quirrell had been somewhat of a disappointment (even before he tried killing herself and Harry), but surely Lockhart would know his stuff. After all, Hermione had read about the dangerous adventures Lockhart had had around the world, and the sheer number of towns and villages he had saved from vampires, werewolves, and a whole number of other terrifying creatures. Hermione couldn't help but feel jealous of Harry; he had got to meet the great man up close.

When Hermione had purchased her own books and had fought her way back to the others, she found Harry and Draco Malfoy face-to-face, shooting daggers at each other.

"Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a _bookshop_ without making the front page."

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," Hermione fired back. "I thought you'd have been up there; you never shy away from an opportunity to smarm up to people like Lockhart." Draco's pale face flushed with colour, and his face filled with anger as Hermione pushed past him, leading them out of the shop.

"Wow, Hermione, where did that come from?" Harry laughed, an impressed look upon his face.

"Well, I thought it was about time that somebody pulled him down from that high horse of his." As they entered the Leaky Cauldron, and the Weasleys prepared for the trip back to the Burrow via Floo powder, Hermione pulled Harry aside. "It was really great to catch up today. I know I'm being silly, it's only been two months, but I've really missed you." Harry took her by the shoulders and smiled sympathetically down at her.

"Oh, Hermione," he smiled at her, "you're not being silly! I've been so miserable, cooped up at the Dursleys with no-one to talk to. And just think, in we'll see each other again in two week's time, and then we'll have a whole year together!"

Hermione smiled weakly. What she really wanted was to have some time alone together with him, but she didn't know if they'd have a chance.

xxx

Hermione sat alone in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. She was trying to read one of her new Lockhart books, but she was too anxious to really concentrate on the words in front of her.

She had stood on Platform 9¾ right up until 11 o'clock, looking round desperately for Harry and Ron. The platform had been packed with people, and being only 12 years old she couldn't see over everyone's heads; but she knew that they hadn't been there. Harry would have come and found her. What on Earth had happened to them?

Hermione realised at that moment how much she had come to rely on Harry and Ron. She had forgotten how the previous year had started; how she had spent all her free time in the library, too afraid to talk to anyone, feeling that she didn't belong to any of the social circles. With Harry and Ron, she had always had friends, always had someone to confide in. Now that they weren't here, it dawned on her that she hadn't made any other proper friends.

Hermione spent nearly the full journey in her compartment, only venturing outside to use the toilet. At about 3 o'clock, her door slid open, and the only people who could possibly make her more miserable were stood there: Draco Malfoy, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle.

"So Granger, where are Potter and Weasley? Have they seen sense and stopped hanging round with you anymore?"

"Go away," Hermione mumbled, not looking up. Malfoy moved further into the room, so that he was stood directly in front of her, glowering down at her. Hermione became uncomfortably aware that her bare legs were visible under her skirt.

"I asked you a question. Don't you know that it's rude to ignore someone?" Still Hermione remained silent, determinedly not looking up at him. But next second, she was lifted to her feet and shoved hard against the window. "I think we need to teach you some manners." He pressed one hand onto her chest, feeling her developing breasts through the material of her robes, while his other hand landed on her thigh and began to snake its way up her skirt.

"Malfoy! What the hell?! Get off me!" She tried to push him away, but he was too strong. Hermione's eyes started to fill with tears, but before Malfoy could do anything else, there was a loud bang, and he seemed to fall off her. Completely bewildered, Hermione saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle staggering from the compartment; the Weasley twins had their wands out, having just jinxed the three Slytherins moments before.

"Hermione, are you OK?" Fred asked her, walking over and looking concerned. Hermione, who was still breathing quickly, readjusted her skirt and replied: "Ye-yeah, thanks…" The other twin was looking around the compartment.

"Are you all on your own in here?" said George, "where are your friends?"

"I don't know! Harry and Ron aren't here…and…well…" she couldn't finish her sentence, but the twins seemed to understand.

"Do you want to come and hang with us? Don't worry, we don't bite!" Fred joked. Hermione's spirits soared, and her face broke out into a huge smile.

"I'd love to, thank you so much!" And knowing she was in for a much more enjoyable second half of the journey, she followed Fred and George back to their compartment.


	11. The Chamber of Secrets, Part 2

Hermione burned once again with jealousy as she took a seat in Defence Against the Dark Arts next to Harry. Twice in one day Harry had been face-to-face with the wonderful Gilderoy Lockhart. The first time, Lockhart had congratulated Harry on his arrival the previous evening, which was the very last thing Hermione had felt like doing. Lockhart then later came across Harry, mistakenly thinking that he was handing out signed photos. Hermione knew that Lockhart would have been drawn to Harry because he was famous, so she knew that the only way she would stand any chance of getting close to Lockhart would be to excel in class.

For some reason, Harry was still in a foul mood with him; he had stacked all his books in front of himself; but Hermione was sat up eagerly, waiting to learn from the best.

"Me," Lockart said, pointing at his own face on the cover of _Travels with Trolls_. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly_ 's Most-Charming-Smile Award…but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her! I see you've all bought a complete set of my books. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how well you've read them…how much you've taken in…"

Hermione sat bolt upright. If there was ever going to be an opportunity to impress him, it was now.

"You have thirty minutes. Start… _now_."

Lockhart's books had been really informative, and despite being a tad self-centered, Hermione had taken it all in. It was lucky she had, because Lockhart had decided to test them on some of the tiny little details such as: _What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour_ , _what is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition_ and _when is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_

Hermione bent her head and plumbed the depths of her knowledge, determined to attain full marks. Half an hour later, Lockhart collected all the papers and sat at the front of the class, flicking through them. Hermione sat with her fingers crossed in her lap; had she done well enough to stand out? She was dimly aware of her classmates' attention waning, which surprised her; why wouldn't you hang onto his every word? She gave a start when Lockhart mentioned her name.

"But Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil. Good girl! In fact…full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?" Hermione raised a trembling hand into the air, bright red in the face, but beaming. "Excellent! So…to business…" he reached down under his desk and produced a large cage covered in a sheet. "Be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest of creatures, but know that no harm can befall you while I am here." Placing one hand on the sheet, he pulled out his wand, ready to open the cage. "I must ask you not to scream…it might provoke them!"

The sheet was removed, the cage was opened, and out shot two dozen pixies. There was pandemonium. The pixies grabbed ink bottles, shredded books, tore pictures from the walls, and smashed through the windows. Most of the class were sheltering underneath their desks; but Lockhart raised his wand to restore order and bellowed, " _Peskipiksi Pesternomi!_ " For some reason, nothing happened. One of the pixies grabbed his wand and threw it out of the window, but Lockhart took it in his stride, leading the class to safety outside the classroom.

"Can you believe him?" roared Ron as he, Hermione and Harry stayed behind to help round up the rest of the pixies.

"He just wants to give us a bit of hands on experience," Hermione replied, immobilizing two pixies at once and stuffing them back in the cage.

" _Hands on_?" Harry uttered, "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing-"

"Rubbish! You've read his books…look at all those amazing things he's done."

xxx

Hermione woke reasonably early on Saturday morning, so she was very surprised when Ron told her that Harry had already got up and headed down for Quidditch practice. They grabbed a stack of toast from the Great Hall and headed out for the Quidditch pitch. When they arrived, Hermione was saw that it was deserted. They had only been sat in the stands for a few minutes before the team emerged from the changing room.

"Haven't you finished yet?" Ron shouted incredulously at Harry.

"Haven't even started," Harry replied grumpily, Nimbus Two Thousand over his shoulder. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

The team hadn't been warming up for long when seven green-clad players appeared on the edge of the playing field.

"Bloody hell, what's going on now?" Ron muttered, vaulting the stands and setting off to where the Gryffindor team were landing, Hermione in his wake. "What's happening? Why is _he_ here?"

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Draco Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's been admiring the new brooms my father bought us." Ron gaped, openmouthed, at the seven sleek, ebony handles, each with gold lettering at the end; Hermione knew nothing about the different brooms, but she could tell that these brooms were top-of-the-range, probably even better than Harry's. Ron couldn't speak, but Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust. She had seen Malfoy flying at their lessons last year, and she knew he was not as good as Harry; probably not even good enough to get onto the Slytherin team.

"Well at least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in!" she said sharply. " _They_ got in on pure talent."

Malfoy rounded on her, anger in his eyes.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood."

Hermione did not have a clue what he was on about, but knew that whatever he had said was really bad, because there was instant uproar. The Slytherin captain Marcus Flint had dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, " _How dare you_!" Ron, however, plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his broken wand, pointed it furiously at Malfoy's face, and yelled "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!"

A jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand and hit him squarely in the stomach. He reeled backwards, looking winded. He collapsed onto all fours and opened his mouth to speak, but he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth. The Slytherins were bent double with laughter, but Harry grabbed him by an arm and hauled him to his feet. Together, they half-walked, half-dragged Ron to Hagrid's cabin, all the while dodging the slugs Ron was still spewing up.

xxx

Five minutes later, Ron was sat at Hagrid's table, every now and then vomiting a few slugs into a large copper cauldron.

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," said Hermione anxiously. "That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand…"

"Who was he tryin' ter curse?" Hagrid asked, setting down cups of tea in front of them.

"Malfoy," Harry answered darkly. "He called Hermione…well I don't know what he said, but it sounded really bad."

"Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid-" Ron managed to say before he ducked out of sight again as a fresh wave of slugs made an appearance. Hagrid looked outraged.

"He didn'!"

"He did," Hermione replied. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course-"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of…" Ron began, but Hermione's concentration waned more and more as she took in what Ron was saying. She knew that Malfoy had never liked her; she thought it was because she always did better in class, or that the majority of teachers liked her more than him; but she never thought he would resort to using racism on her. Hermione started to tear up; she had read about the different wizarding blood lines and the so called "Sacred Twenty-Eight," but she didn't think anyone would genuinely consider themselves to be superior to others just because they were pure-blooded. Hermione had known Malfoy for just over a year; they hardly conversed at school, and he knew absolutely nothing about her home life, yet he still considered her to be filth. The fact that Draco thought he could judge her on the basis of knowing hardly anything about her was, in Hermione's mind, disgusting.

"Hermione?" she jumped as Harry took her hand in his. "Are you OK?"

"Wha-yes. Yes, I'm fine," Hermione mumbled, holding back tears. Hermione was still so preoccupied with what Draco had said to her that she hardly noticed them returning to the castle. She felt the emotions filling her up, overwhelming all of her senses; and yet she couldn't bring herself to tell Harry, to confide in him what she was feeling.

But Harry had enough on his mind already: detention from his car-flying exploits, trying to avoid the Creeveys, his close connection with Lockhart, Quidditch; did he really need anything else bothering him? And would he even care?

 **So you might have noticed that Hermione seems completely infatuated by Lockhart. From the books, we know how much Hermione loved him, and I felt it was too good an opportunity to not go all out and troll him. I hope you enjoy my Lockhart-bashing, and seeing just how deep Hermione's delusions about him go.**

 **It's not one of my best chapters, and I think it's a pretty weak ending personally, but I wasn't really sure how else to round it off. I was just trying to show how much the word "mudblood" effects Hermione; it's going to come to a head in the next few chapters, when a certain ginger first-year opens a secret chamber. I hope you enjoyed it regardless.**


	12. The Chamber of Secrets, Part 3

Sitting high in the stands around the pitch, Hermione couldn't believe that she was doing something as mundane as watching a game of Quidditch after the events of the past two weeks. On Halloween, Hermione, alongside Harry and Ron, had attended Nearly-Headless Nick's deathday party. She had been eager to go, having read lots about them, but regretted it almost as soon as she had arrived. The dungeon was very cold; Hermione could feel goosebumps all the way up her arms; and was lit only by jet-black tapers with blue flames. The food provided was in no way fit for human consumption; rotten fish, maggoty haggis, mouldy cheese and charcoal-black cakes were just some of the truly unpleasant dishes available. And the company wasn't much better either; Peeves the Poltergeist had forced upon them an awkward encounter with Moaning Myrtle, a ghost who haunted a bathroom on the first floor. And when the Headless Hunt arrived; a group of headless horsemen who frankly caused havoc from the moment they arrived; Hermione, Harry and Ron had decided that they had had enough.

But the moment they had left the dungeon, Harry had begun racing upstairs, claiming that he could hear a mysterious, disembodied voice that was determined to kill someone. Bewildered by the fact that they couldn't hear anything, Hermione and Ron had followed him upstairs until they reached Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. There was a large puddle of water seeping out from underneath the door, but their attention was caught by a horrifying sight. Daubed on the wall with what looked horribly like blood were foot-high words that said:

 _THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED_

 _ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE_

Below these words was a torch bracket, and Hermione gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth when she saw what it was: Mrs. Norris, stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

xxx

For the next week, the school talked of nothing but the Chamber of Secrets, and the incident with Mrs. Norris. Hermione had searched for a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ in the library to try and find out about it, but in vain. However, she and the rest of her classmates had persuaded Professor Binns to tell them the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.

Hermione had been deeply affected by the racial slur Malfoy had thrown at her during their first week, but she was shocked to discover that one quarter of the school potentially hated muggleborns. She knew that it was probably only a minority of Slytherin House who would be xenophobic like Malfoy; Hermione remembered her parents telling her that she shouldn't judge a whole culture or creed on the actions of a few. But she couldn't stomach the thought that anyone, not even Malfoy, would set a fearsome creature on muggleborns to drive them from the school; yet that was exactly what Salazar Slytherin had wanted.

Ron, however, had had different thoughts. He wholeheartedly believed that Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin, so the three of them had agreed that they would attempt to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room using Polyjuice Potion (which allowed the drinker to change their appearance for a short period of time) and interrogate him.

xxx

Almost from the moment the game started, Hermione could tell that the Slytherins' superior brooms gave them the upper hand. In seemingly no time at all, Slytherin were 50 points up, although Gryffindor weren't helped by the fact that Fred and George were circling around Harry twenty feet above the rest of the game, as a Bludger relentlessly tried to unseat him.

"What the hell's wrong with that Bludger?" Ron asked next to her. "Why's it just going after Harry?" But Hermione was too busy biting her fingernails anxiously to answer.

They saw the Gryffindor team descend for a time-out, and when they took to the air a minute later, Harry began a sort of rollercoaster ride around the stadium; the rogue Bludger on his tail. Without warning, Harry suddenly stopped in mid-air, glaring at Malfoy.

"Harry, look out-!" Hermione began to shout, but it was too late; the Bludger smashed into arm. Hermione screamed as Harry went into a steep dive: he plunged at Malfoy, took his one good hand off his broom, made a wild snatch at the shimmering ball of gold just above Draco's head, and smashed hard into the muddy turf.

Hermione and Ron sprinted over to him, beaming at the victory, but concerned about Harry's welfare. But any worries that Hermione had vanished when she saw Gilderoy Lockhart standing over Harry.

"Lie back, Harry," Hermione caught Lockhart saying, rolling up his sleeves and pulling out his wand. "It's a simple charm, I've used it countless times-"

"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" Harry said angrily through clenched teeth, but Lockhart was twirling his wand, and pointed it directly at Harry's broken arm. Hermione gasped as she saw something very strange happening to Harry; it looked almost as if his arm was deflating. A second later, she realised what had happened; Lockhart had accidently removed Harry's bones!

xxx

"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain as he helped Harry into some pajamas. Hermione rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

"Anyone can make a mistake," she replied, "and it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Harry?"

"No. But it doesn't do anything else either."

Hermione chanced a glance through a gap in the curtains, and caught a glimpse of Harry's naked torso. It was the first time that she had seen a half-naked boy of her age, and Hermione felt butterflies in her stomach; she longed to burst through the curtains and place her hands on his soft skin, to run them up his back and down his slightly-muscular stomach.

Before long, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived.

"Unbelievable flying Harry," said George. "I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy, something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing!" They had brought cakes, sweets and pumpkin juice, and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over.

"This boy needs rest, he's got thirty-three bones to regrow! Now out!" As Madam Pomfrey ushered them out of the room, Hermione looked back at Harry. He looked very sad, all on his own at the end of the ward, and she promised herself that she would go and cheer him up later.

xxx

Hermione quietly pushed open the door of the hospital wing and looked around. The room was silent, but in a bed at the far end of the ward, she could see a dark figure asleep, illuminated by the moonlight penetrating through the high windows. Hermione tip-toed slowly across to Harry, pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, and gently tapped him. He jerked awake and looked around, alarmed.

"Hermione! What are-" But before he could finish, Hermione placed a finger to his lips.

"Shush now, Harry, or you'll wake up Madam Pomfrey," she whispered. "I thought I'd come and pay you a little visit, and give you a bit of a treat as a reward for yesterday."

"Hermione, what are you on about?"

"Well…" Hermione grinned slyly, "I've been doing some reading, and I think you'll enjoy what I've got planned. Now lie back and be still."

"Hermione-"

"Harry!" Hermione whispered furiously, "Listen to me and shut up! Lie back and be still."

Harry did as he was told, and his eyes widened as Hermione shed her dressing gown, revealing her tight fitting pajama t-shirt and thin shorts. She sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, and ran a hand slowly down his torso over his bedsheets; her hand came to rest over his waist. Hermione began to gently move her hand up and down his thigh, feeling him pressing against her as she gradually increased her tempo. She wasn't completely sure that she was adopting the correct method, but Harry had closed his eyes and seemed to be enjoying it. Hermione didn't want to actually touch Harry if she could help it, but taking a deep breath, she slipped her hand underneath his bedsheets and resumed her previous action, this time with only his pajama bottoms in between. Harry let out a quiet moan as Hermione reached her quickest tempo yet; he now felt like he was fully erect, and Hermione thought that he must be close. She let out a sharp gasp of her own as she discovered Harry was toying with the edge of her shorts, tracing small circles on her thigh. Hermione hadn't been expecting this, and her breath hitched as a strange sensation that she had never experienced before ran through her body; but nevertheless, she wasn't comfortable with Harry's hands being so close to her groin, so she grabbed his hand and pushed it away.

"Hermione, what-" Harry began, his eyes snapping open. "I thought-"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, blushing. "I don't want you to…you know…"

"But-"

"Harry. This is all about you. I'm happy enough knowing that you're happy." Hermione didn't know we she was refusing Harry's offer. She had been preparing this ever since she had left the hospital wing the previous day, and had wanted to make sure that everything had gone smoothly and according to plan; Harry making her excited hadn't be part of it, and so she was unprepared for it happening.

Suddenly, Hermione heard quick footsteps out in the corridor heading their way. Quick as a flash, she withdrew her hand and dived under the Invisibility Cloak on the floor just as the door of the hospital wing opened.

Professor Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, carrying what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet.

"What happened?" whispered Madam Pomfrey, hurrying over to them.

"Another attack," Dumbledore replied. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."

As her breathing returned to normal, Hermione listened intently at the teachers conversation, shivering as the chill from the stone floor seeped into her body; she had forgotten to put her dressing gown back on. Raising her head slightly, Hermione looked at the statue on the bed, a ray of moonlight across its staring face.

It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and staring, his hands stuck out in front of him, tightly holding his camera. Dumbledore wrenched the camera from Colin's grip and opened the back. A great jet of steam hissed from it, and Hermione caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.

"Wha does this _mean_ , Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

"It means that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

"But, Albus…surely…who?"

"The question is not _who_ , Minerva," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, _how_ …"

And from the look of Professor McGonagall's face, Hermione knew that she wasn't the only one who didn't understand what he meant.


	13. The Chamber of Secrets, Part 4

Hermione coughed and wiped the tears from her eyes as thick black smoke continued to billow from the cauldron she was continuously stirring. The three of them had been preparing the Polyjuice Potion ever since Colin had been attacked, and the need to interrogate Malfoy had become more pressing. They had hoped that the month needed to brew the potion would pass without further incident, but they were not so lucky; on the final day of term, Nearly-Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fletchley were both attacked. There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas. This meant that the school would be all but empty over the holidays; and most importantly, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson would all be staying. Hermione thought, and Harry and Ron agreed, that Draco would surely confess to his close circle of Slytherin friends if he was in fact the heir of Slytherin.

But Hermione was glad that most people would be leaving. The day before Justin and Nick were attacked, Professor Lockhart had decided to run a Dueling Club. It was during this that it had been revealed that Harry was a Parseltongue, and from then on people assumed that he was the heir of Slytherin. Students began giving him a wide berth in corridors, or else whispering to each other behind their hands whenever they passed him. Hermione knew Harry was worried about possibly being related to Salazar Slytherin.

xxx

A short while later, Hermione, Harry and Ron were huddled in a stall, each clutching a glass beaker full of thick, bubbling liquid; Hermione's was a sickly-yellow colour, Harry's khaki and Ron's a dark, murky brown.

"OK, so we'll have exactly one hour before we change back into ourselves," Hermione informed them, picking up her tumbler.

"Hang on a minute," said Harry. "We'd better not drink them all in here…once we turn into Crabbe and Goyle, we won't fit."

"Good thinking," Ron replied. The two boys slipped into stalls either side of Hermione.

"Ready?" Harry called. "One…two…three…" Pinching her nose against the smell, Hermione drank the potion in two large gulps.

Immediately, her insides started writhing as though she'd just swallowed live snakes. Hermione doubled up, wondering if she was going to be sick; then a burning sensation spread rapidly from her stomach to the very ends of his fingers and toes; gasping for air and on all fours, she felt the skin all over her body bubbling like hot wax. Hermione felt her hair lose its bushiness and become straighter as it ran down her back; her robes ripped as her shoulders and arms thickened, and her chest was in agony as her chest was constricted by a too-small bra.

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Slowly, Hermione climbed to her feet; she had never noticed how more heavily-built Pansy was compared to herself, and was very ungainly as she pulled off her shoes and old, tattered robes, and breathed a sigh of relief as she removed her bra to free her larger breasts. Hermione pulled on the Slytherin robes and Pansy's shoes, before opening the cubicle door.

As she examined her reflection in the cracked mirror, Crabbe and Goyle stepped out of their own stalls; they all stood there, taking in each other's new appearances.

"This is unbelievable," said Ron, approaching the mirror and poking Crabbe's fat nose. " _Unbelievable_."

"We'd better get going," said Harry, loosening the watch cutting into Goyle's thick wrist. "We've still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is."

Five minutes of their precious sixty had already elapsed, so the three of them hurried down the marble staircase into the Entrance Hall, took a right, and walked down the stone steps, past Snape's potions classroom. The labyrinthine passages were deserted. They walked deeper and deeper under the school, not having a clue where they were going. After 15 desperate minutes, they saw the pale face of Draco Malfoy emerging out of the darkness.

"Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time?" He drawled. Before they could answer, Draco walked up to Hermione, took her hand, and planted a kiss on her mouth. "Come with me, I want to show you something really funny." Repulsed at their contact, Hermione allowed herself to be led to the Slytherin common room, Harry and Ron following in their wake.

xxx

The Slytherin Common Room was a long, low room, with rough stone walls, and an elaborately carved mantelpiece at the far end. The greenish lamps hanging from the ceiling gave Hermione the sense that being situated underneath the lake was the right place for it.

Draco sat down in one of the high-backed armchairs, and gently pulled Hermione down onto his lap.

"I'm surprised the _Daily Prophet_ hasn't reported all these attacks. I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. You know, my father says that Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. What's the matter with you, Goyle?" he finished, for Harry's face had become contorted with fury.

"Err…stomach ache."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's lack of guile, but immediately gasped as Malfoy's cold hands pushed their way under her robes and began moving upwards, towards her chest. She tried to push him away, but he seemed ignorant of her protestations.

"And everyone thinks Potter's the heir of Slytherin…" The trio held their breath, on tenterhooks; was Malfoy about to reveal his secret?

"I _wish_ I knew who it _is_ …I could help them…"

"But Draco," Hermione began, stroking his sleek, blonde hair, "You must have some idea who's behind it all," Hermione asked.

"I've told you before Pansy, I don't have a clue." One of Draco's hands was resting on her chest, while the other was moving slowly up and down her thigh. Hermione couldn't meet Harry's eyes; she would have given anything in the world to be sitting on his knee. Instead, she was being violated by the worst person that she knew.

"But I do know this;" Malfoy continued, "The last time the Chamber was opened, a mudblood _died_. It's only a matter of time before one of them does this time. Personally, I'm hoping that it's Granger."

These words were too much for Hermione. She leapt to her feet and backed away from Malfoy. He turned around in his chair and gave her a quizzical look.

"Pansy, darling, what's wrong?"

But Hermione was spared from answering by an alarming sight; Ron's hair was becoming lighter, and Harry's scar was reappearing under his lengthening hair. From the expressions on the boys' faces, Hermione was obviously changing as well.

"Medicine for my stomach!" Ron grunted, and the three of them sprinted for the exit, dashed up the passage, all the way back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

xxx

Ignoring the others, Hermione strode across the room, pulled off her Slytherin robes, jumped into a shower, and sat down below the cold spray. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. Malfoy had made it plainly clear that he hated Hermione, but to want her to die? What sort of upbringing must he have had, to be 12-years-old and wish death upon someone?

"Err…Hermione?" Harry's voice said. "Are you OK?"

"Go away," Hermione said, head in her hands.

"But, Hermione-"

"Go away!" She heard him retreating quickly, and realised she had only seconds to act. "Wait…Harry! Don't go, I didn't mean it…it's just M-Malfoy…"

"What about him?" Harry asked; Hermione could tell he was sitting on the other side of the thin dividing wall.

"You saw him! You saw what he was doing to me!" To her annoyance, she heard Harry chuckle.

"Hermione, he thought you were Pansy! That's why he was doing it; you've seen them around school, he can't keep his hands off her."

"Yeah, I've noticed…" Hermione responded coldly.

"Look, Hermione…are you sure you don't want to come out here and talk about it? You must be freezing in there…"

Hermione slowly stood up; it was only when she turned off the water that she realised that she was fully naked just mere feet from Harry. Embarrassed and blushing, Hermione asked, "Err…Harry? C-could you m-maybe…pass me a towel…?"

"Wha-? Yeah of course." Harry's hand appeared around the edge of a curtain, thrusting a towel towards her. Gratefully taking it, Hermione wrapped it around herself, made sure that it was firmly secured in place, and stepped out to meet him. She allowed him to guide her over to a bench, where she sat down, shivering violently. Harry sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "There, Hermione, this is better, isn't it? Listen, I know how you feel-"

"No you don't!" Hermione shouted shrilly, standing up angrily. "You have no idea what it feels like! You weren't the one sat on Malfoy's lap, getting groped! And I know what you're going to say: 'he was only doing it because he thought you were Pansy.' Well guess what?" she continued, hands on her hips, "you weren't there on the train when Malfoy attacked me! If it wasn't for Fred and George, I don't-"

"Wait," Harry interrupted, standing up too and gripping her shoulders firmly. "What do you mean, Malfoy attacked you?"

"It-it was on the train coming here," Hermione answered in a small voice, all fury suddenly gone. "I was all on my own. Malfoy just came in, and started touching me."

"Hermione!" It was Harry's turn to be angry now. "Why didn't you tell me, or Ron? It's the same as last year with Quirrell! Hermione, we're your best friends. You can tell us anything. I _want_ to know everything…"

Harry's voice trailed off, and he ran his hands slowly down her slender arms and took hold of her own small ones.

Hermione pulled away from Harry, but as she did, she felt her towel fall to the floor. She was frozen to the spot. Harry was staring at her face, just as shocked as she was. Hermione hoped that Harry would look away or close his eyes, but to her indignation and horror, he _looked down_. The full impact of this small action hit her hard. Harry had just seen her fully naked, shivering with cold and dripping with water; while Hermione had dreamed of being in a situation like this, she was far too insecure about her body for her to want it to come true, especially not in her current situation. After what felt like an age, something clicked in her brain, and she dived for her towel and held it up over her torso, shielding her modesty, but far too late.

Hermione burnt red with embarrassment, but Harry simply stood there, transfixed.

"Harry! What the hell?! Get out of here!"

"Yea-yeah…I-I'll see you later, H-Hermione…"

The moment the door closed behind him, Hermione sank to the floor. She was mortified. Her friendship with Harry had strengthen since the summer, but they had now gone past the point of no return. Harry had seen her fully nude; there could be no going back from that. Hermione knew that she wasn't very developed; she had seen Lavender and Parvati in their underwear, and they both had larger chests than her, and were more body confident. Hermione wasn't scared to admit that she was socially awkward; being unexpectedly caught naked by someone whom she fancied did nothing to alleviate her anxiety.


	14. The Chamber of Secrets, Part 5

Hermione spent the next few weeks trying to act as normal as possible around Harry. They had come to an unspoken agreement not to mention what had happened in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It seemed that Harry had not told Ron, for which Hermione was very grateful. However, the pair of them were frostier towards each other; never sitting in adjacent seats, determined to avoid even brief physical contact.

Fortunately, there was enough going on to stop Hermione dwelling on the memory. The three of them had discovered a diary that had belonged to a T.M. Riddle, who had been a head boy and received an award for Special Services to the School fifty years ago. She and Harry had deduced that Riddle may have received his award for catching the heir of Slytherin, who had coincidentally been expelled from Hogwarts fifty years ago. Unfortunately, there was nothing written in Riddle's diary, and Hermione was frustrated that another lead had gone cold.

But in February, Professor Lockhart sprung a wonderful surprise on them that drove all thought of Riddle's dairy from Hermione's brain. Hermione walked into the Great Hall on Valentine's Day to find the walls plastered with large pink flowers, while pale blue, heart-shaped confetti fell from the ceiling; meanwhile, Lockhart himself was wearing bright pink robes to match the decorations; Hermione found herself overcome by an unexpected fit of giggles.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have already sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all! And it doesn't end here!" He clapped his hands and a dozen surly-looking dwarfs marched into the hall. "My friendly, card-carrying cupids! They will be roving round the school today delivering your Valentines!"

"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six," Ron asked her as they made their way to Transfiguration. Hermione blushed a deep red and busied herself in searching for her timetable to avoid answering. It was true that Hermione had sent a Valentine to Lockhart. Lockhart's treat would have provided Hermione with an opportunity to deliver a Valentine to Harry anonymously; but then she remembered the shift in their relationship. For one thing, Harry was bound to recognise her handwriting; Hermione didn't think it would be a good idea to profess her love to him when they hadn't looked each other in the eyes since Christmas.

xxx

Over the Easter holidays, the time had come for Hermione and the rest of the second years to choose their subjects for the third year. Neville Longbottom sent letters to every witch and wizard in his family, asking for advice on whether Arithmancy sounded more difficult than Muggle Studies. People who came from Muggle families, like Harry and Dean Thomas, didn't have any magical relatives to converse with, but many older students were more than happy to offer guidance. But Hermione, always eager to learn as much about magic as possible, ignored everyone's advice and signed up for everything.

xxx

Gryffindor's next Quidditch match would be against Hufflepuff, on the first Saturday after the holidays. The three of them headed down to the Great Hall together, but none of them were thinking about the game. Less than twelve hours earlier, Harry had found, to his horror, that Riddle's diary had been stolen. What was more worrying was that it must have been a Gryffindor who had taken it; no-one else knew the password. Could the new owner of Riddle's diary be sat right in front of their eyes?

As they left the Great Hall, Harry yelled out in surprise.

"That voice! I just heard it again…didn't you?" Ron shook his head, wide-eyed, but Hermione clapped a hand to her forehead.

"Harry! I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!" And without another word, she sprinted away up the marble staircase.

Hermione hurtled into the library to find it all but deserted; most people were already down at the Quidditch pitch. She couldn't explain how, but Hermione knew exactly where to go. She pulled a very old book from its shelf, and quickly found the page she was looking for:

 _Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it._

Suddenly, everything seemed to suddenly make sense. They had seen spiders leaving the school; all of Hagrid's roosters had been killed. None of the victims had looked it directly in the eyes, so no-one had died: Mrs. Norris saw the serpent's reflection in the water outside Myrtle's bathroom on Halloween; Colin must have seen it through his camera; and Justin would have observed the snake through Nearly-Headless Nick, and Nick couldn't die _again_.

Hermione couldn't help but admit that it was incredibly lucky that no one had died; but now that she had found out the truth, Hermione had to tell people. As she dashed from the room, she nearly ran headlong into a Ravenclaw sixth-year.

"Hey, watch were you're going-"

"Listen to me!" Hermione rushed. "Just listen to me, OK? From now on, whenever you go around a corner, pull out a mirror first, and check that nothing's there."

"What are you on about?" The Ravenclaw asked, taken aback.

"Just trust me, alright? I've found out what's behind all the attacks." The girl's eyes widened even further.

"Are you serious? How-?"

But Hermione had already taken off down the corridor, determined to warn as many people as possible. As she ran, she pulled a small mirror from her bag. As she reached a corner she slowed to a standstill. Holding the mirror in front of her, Hermione tilted it, so that the next corridor was reflected in the glass.

The gasp didn't even have time to leave her. She saw a bright, poisonous green serpent, as thick as a tree trunk, with two huge, golden orbs situated on either side of its head; then everything went black.

xxx

Hermione gasped and coughed, breathing rapidly. She had just seen the Basilisk! She had to get away! She tried to move, but a strong pair of hands held her down.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger. You're back with us…it's OK…"

Hermione sat up and looked around. She was in the hospital wing, and all around her, people were waking up. There was Colin, looking shaken; Filch was holding Mrs. Norris tight in his arms; and there was Justin and that Ravenclaw girl, both unharmed. Hermione understood; everyone who had been petrified had received a Mandrake Restorative Draft. But…wasn't that Ginny over there? What was she doing here? Surely as a Pure Blood, Ginny wouldn't have been attacked?

"W-what happened?"

"Well, it seems your friends Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley have closed the Chamber of Secrets for good; no-one else is going to be petrified," Madam Pomfrey smiled.

"They worked it out?" Hermione exclaimed, "They did it? Where are they now?"

"The headmaster has announced that the whole school will be having a pyjama party in the Great Hall, and celebrating with a special feast."

"I need to see them now!" Hermione cried, trying once again to climb out of bed, but Madam Pomfrey continued to hold her down, insisting that she would need to keep her in the infirmary just a short while longer.

Finally, she was allowed to leave. She hurried down to the feast with Colin, Justin and Penelope, but as they entered the Great Hall, she broke away from them as her eyes fell on Harry.

All the tension, all the reasons why their friendship had cooled since Christmas were forgotten as she ran towards him. He stood up to meet her, but before he could say anything, she threw her arms around him. She buried her face in his shoulder, crying with joy, trying to put a lot of unsaid things into the hug; how she regretted being distant with him, how she loved him as a friend, how grateful she was for saving her life. Eventually, they broke apart.

"You solved it," she whispered to him. "I knew you would."

"Well," Harry confessed, "We couldn't have done it without you." Hermione became aware that people had started to stare at them, so they quickly resumed their seats, trying to conspicuously hold hands under the table.

xxx

The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. With Professor Lockhart now indisposed, Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons were cancelled. After the boys had filled Hermione in on everything that had happened since she had been petrified, she had had to concede that Lockhart wasn't as brilliant as he'd been telling everyone; Hermione privately promised to herself that she would judge people on more than just looks in the future.

Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny had a compartment to themselves; they played Exploding Snap and set off the last of the twins' Filibuster fireworks.

As they disembarked, Harry pulled Hermione away from the others.

"I can't apologise enough for what happened at Christmas. I shouldn't have looked at you, but I couldn't resist! I've felt really bad about it, and I wished I'd talked to you about it sooner. But with everything that has happened, I've realised just how much I need you. I won't lie; seeing you lying in the Hospital Wing was terrifying: I just couldn't bear losing you. I _will_ find a way to convince Uncle Vernon to let me send Hedwig out, even if he says I can't send letters to you."

"Oh, Harry! It's OK, I forgive you; I can't expect you to miss the opportunity to see a naked girl! It was just so awkward, looking at you and knowing that you've seen me naked!"

"Well," Harry grinned at her as they walked back through the wall to King's Cross Station, "maybe I can return the favour sometime."

 **I hope you've enjoyed the last few chapters, hopefully I can upload Prisoner of Azkaban soon; I'm on holiday at the moment, so I should have lots of time for writing.**


	15. The Prisoner of Azkaban, Part 1

The sun was at its highest point in the sky, shining down on the city of Dijon. A few cars trundled down the winding roads, and tourists bustled through the busy streets, trying to find shade from the punishing heat. But on the balcony of a small villa on the edge of town, sat a tanned British girl with large front teeth and bushy hair, head bowed over a roll of yellowish parchment.

Hermione Granger had had a thoroughly enjoyable first week of her holiday; Dijon had a rich and vibrant history, both Muggle and wizarding, which she had enjoyed exploring. Always looking to earn extra credit from her teachers at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione was writing some of her new found knowledge into her History of Magic essay:

 _Much like in Britain, French Muggles in medieval times feared magic, but were not very good at recognizing it. Witch burning was common throughout Europe and North America, with the Salem witch trials of 1692 and the Pendle witch trials of 1612 the most famous; however, those accused of being witches were nearly always Muggles. On the rare occasion when they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would cast a simple Flame Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek in pain, all the while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation._

 _However, not every magical person accused of being a witch or wizard was lucky. The most famous instance of a real witch actually burning to death is that of Joan of Arc. She was considered a heroine of France for her role in the Hundred Years' War, but was burned at the stake by the British. However, as she did not have her wand on her person at the time, she was unable to avoid incineration._

 _While British witches and wizards had been forbidden to participate in the two world wars, their French counterparts were legally allowed to protect their Muggle friends, despite the dangers of possible multiple breaches of the International Statute of Secrecy._

Hermione put down her quill, re-reading the additions to her essay. Suddenly, a loud and familiar hooting noise made her jump.

"Hedwig?" said Hermione, stunned. And sure enough, Harry's snowy white owl was sitting on the window sill, looking very out-of-place in the early morning French sunshine. She was looking expectantly at Harry's neatly wrapped birthday present; a Broomstick Servicing Kit which she had bought through the _Daily Prophet_. Not possessing an owl of her own, Hermione had been wondering how she was going to deliver it to him. Dashing across the room, Hermione snatched up a spare piece of parchment, and wrote:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're alright and didn't get into too much trouble._

 _I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you (what if they opened it up in customs?) but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the_ Daily Prophet _(I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learned loads. I'm so jealous; the ancient Egyptian warlocks were fascinating._

 _There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out. I hope it's not too long; it's two rolls longer than Professor Binns asked for._

 _Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you go? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on the 1_ _st_ _of September!_

 _Hermione_

 _PS. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased._

 _Ron doesn't seem too happy about it._

Hermione tied the letter and Harry's present to Hedwig's leg, after which she promptly took off again, a white spot hardly discernible against the bright sun. Hermione leaned on the edge of the balcony as she watched Hedwig fly away, and smiled to herself as she imagined the look on Harry's face if he could see her now, wearing a bikini top and a small pair of shorts. But almost as soon as this thought entered her head, it was pushed out by another, much less desirable one. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, although there was no chill. Even though they had been able to joke about it when they last parted, it would be a long time before she could rid herself of the image of Harry gazing upon her damp, naked body.

xxx

"Egypt's brilliant! Bill showed us all the old tombs. You wouldn't believe some of the curses the ancient Egyptian wizards put on them; Mum wouldn't let Ginny go in the last one. There were loads of mutant skeletons; Muggles who'd broken in, grown extra heads and stuff…"

Hermione smiled to herself as Ron continued to monologue about Egypt; it was nice to see him taking an interest in magical history for once.

They were sat outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, enjoying chocolate sundaes, shopping bags of school supplies next to them and keeping an eye out for Harry.

"Anyway, did you hear about Harry?" Ron asked, trying to stifle a laugh.

"No. What's happened?"

"Well…there's no other way to say it…he blew up his aunt!"

"What?!" said Hermione, aghast.

"Yeah! Dad was telling me! He got really angry, and she just inflated, bouncing around the ceiling and everything!"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Ron, now openly laughing, pointed over at someone over her shoulder.

"There he is! Harry! HARRY! Over here!"

Hermione looked around, and sure enough walking up the street towards them, was Harry Potter. After Ron had pulled him into a one-armed hug, Harry turned to face her. Their awkward moment the previous Christmas flashed through her mind in agonising detail. The same thought seemed to have occurred to Harry, because he made an involuntary move as though to hug her, before thinking better of it and sitting down next to her. However, Hermione did notice that his eyes roved over her bronzed legs and arms, as well as her tight-fitting t-shirt.

"Did you _really_ blow up your aunt, Harry?" she asked him seriously.

"I didn't mean to," he replied, as Ron roared with laughter again. "I just…lost control."

"It's not funny Ron. Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

"Never mind expelled, it was lucky I wasn't arrested." He pointed at Hermione's three bags. "What's all that, Hermione?"

"Well, I'm taking more subjects than you, aren't I? That's all my stuff for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies-"

"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" Ron interrupted, incredulous. "You're Muggle-born! Your parents are Muggles! You already know everything about Muggles!"

"But it'll be fascinating to study them from a wizarding point of view!"

"Are you planning to sleep at all this year, Hermione?" asked Harry jokingly. Hermione ignored him.

"I've still got 10 galleons. Mum and Dad gave me some extra money to buy myself an early birthday present. I'd really like an owl; you've got Hedwig, Ron's got Errol-"

" _I_ haven't" Ron corrected her. "Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers. I want to get him checked over," he said, pulling the rat out of his pocket. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

"Well, there's a magical creature shop over there," said Harry, pointing.

So the three of them paid for their ice creams, crossed the street and entered the Magical Menagerie.

As Ron engaged the witch behind the counter about medication for Scabbers, Hermione examined the various cages that completely covered the walls. A giant tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell sat glittering near the window, a basket of orange furballs sat humming, and a white rabbit kept changing into a black top hat and back again.

Hermione spun around as Ron roared. A large orange blur had leapt down onto the counter and made a swipe at Scabbers, who sped through Ron's hands and out of sight.

"CROOKSHANKS, NO!"

Ron and Harry chased after Scabbers, while Hermione stayed behind to help the witch restrain the enormous ginger cat.

"I'm so sorry about that," the witch said, when Crookshanks was safely back in his crate. "We've had him for ages, but it seems we haven't managed to coax some good behaviour into him."

"No-one's wanted him?" said Hermione, surprised. Now that Scabbers was out of sight, Crookshanks was purring contently. "But he's _gorgeous_! How much is he?"

10 minutes later, Hermione was leaving the shop with Crookshanks clutched in her arms.

"You _bought_ monster?" said Ron in disbelief. "Hermione, what about Scabbers? He needs rest and relaxation, how's he supposed to get that with that around?"

"You worry too much, Ron. Besides, Scabbers'll sleep in your dormitory, and Crookshanks will sleep in mine. What's the problem?"

Ron declined to reply, but continued to mumble under his breath as they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

xxx

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of London, Hermione, Harry and Ron moved slowly down the train, seeking an empty compartment. At the very end of the train, they found one that was empty but for one occupant; a man sitting fast asleep against the window.

"Who do reckon he is?" Ron asked, as they took seats furthest away from the window.

"Professor R.J. Lupin," answered Hermione promptly.

"You know everything," Ron answered, shaking his head. "How is it she knows everything?"

"It's on his case, Ronald," she replied, pointing at a peeling label on a battered case.

"I suppose he is asleep?" Harry asked.

"Seems to be. Why? What is it, Harry?"

Hermione sat in horrified silence as Harry informed them about what Mr. Weasley had told him. Sirius Black had been on the front page of nearly every issue of the _Daily Prophet_ Hermione had received that summer, and she had read all about the horrific events of twelve years previously. To find out that he had escaped from Azkaban to come after Harry was terrifying.

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" she asked Ron tentatively in an effort to change the subject. "I read it's the only non-Muggle village in Britain-"

"Yeah, it is," Ron replied, clearly also eager to get off the subject of Sirius Black. "But I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?"

"It's this sweetshop," Ron answered dreamily, "and it's got _everything_. Chocoballs full of cream and strawberry mousse; Sugar Quills that you can suck on in class; massive sherbet balls that make you float in the air…"

Hermione let Ron wax lyrical about the sweetshop for a short time, before turning to Harry.

"It'll be good to get out of school for a bit, won't it?"

"'Spect it will. You'll have to tell me when you've found out. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form," he finished, as Ron and Hermione shot him quizzical looks.

" _What?_ No way…McGonagall or someone will give you permission…"

As Ron continued to suggest ideas for Harry to gain entry to Hogwarts, Hermione looked at the latter. She couldn't begin to imagine what it must feel like not only to have to grow up without knowing your parents, but to be raised by people who despised and hated you. Harry had always seemed at least relatively happy at Hogwarts, and Hermione now guessed that it was because he was treated so appallingly at home. She had always wondered why Harry had been brought up by the Dursleys; yes, they were family, but surely countless wizarding families would have opened up their homes to the Boy Who Lived?

As dusk began to settle, the boys began to change into their Hogwarts robes. Hermione still felt uncomfortable undressing around them, so ducked into a nearby toilet to get changed. But as Hermione returned to the compartment, the train slowed to a halt, and the lights flickered and died. She shivered as a sharp coldness took hold of the room, and wrapped her cloak tighter around her.

"What's going on?" she asked the dark room as she felt her way back to her seat.

"Dunno," Ron's voice answered. "Maybe we've broken down."

Before either of the other two could respond, the compartment door was slid open. By the dim twilight that penetrated the windows, Hermione could make out a hooded figure, its face completely hidden; a scabbed, greyish, decaying hand protruding from under its cloak. The thing beneath the cloak (which Hermione guessed was not human), looked around at them all, and took a long, rattling breath.

Without warning, Harry slipped off his seat and collapsed on the floor. Hermione screamed as he started writhing at their feet, and the hooded figure stepped into the room.

A sudden movement from the corner; Professor Lupin had awoken at last. Stepping over Harry, he drew his wand and declared:

"None of us are hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go." When the creature remained resolute, Professor Lupin whispered something, and a bright, silvery substance shot out of the end of his wand.

The moment the intruder had fled, warmth and happiness immediately flooded back into them. Hermione dived to the floor, holding Harry's face in her hands.

"Harry! _Harry!_ Are you alright? Please be alright!" Relief swam through her as he opened his eyes, coughing.

"W-what happened?"

As Ron brought Harry up-to-date and Professor Lupin handed out chocolate, Hermione watched Harry anxiously. Why had he collapsed? Hermione had felt cold and clammy, but she hadn't fainted. What had the dementor done to him? As he resumed his seat next to her, Hermione took Harry's hand in her own and stroked it affectionately. He squeezed her briefly, reassuring her that he was OK, and moved closer to her.

And that was how Harry Potter and Hermione Granger spent the rest of the journey on the Hogwarts Express; snuggling close to each other, relishing the contact that had been denied from them for two months.


	16. The Prisoner of Azkaban, Part 2

"Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"

Professor McGonagall was striding across the Entrance Hall towards them; her hair in its usual tight bun, a stern look upon her face.

"There's no need to look so worried; I just want a word with you both."

Hermione and Harry followed Professor McGonagall up to her office, were Madam Pomfrey was sat waiting for them.

"Professor Lupin sent word ahead, saying that you were taken ill on the train." Harry went red in the face.

"I'm fine," he said furiously, "I don't need anything-"

But Madam Pomfrey wasn't listening; she was bustling around him, feeling his forehead and checking his temperature.

"I'm not spending the night in the hospital wing!" he exclaimed determinedly.

"Well at the very least you should have some chocolate."

"I've already had some. Professor Lupin gave me some on the train."

"Did he now?" asked Madam Pomfrey, surprise in her voice. "So we've finally got a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his stuff?"

"Very well. If you are OK, Potter, please kindly wait outside will I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her timetable."

When the door had closed behind Harry and Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall reached inside her robes and withdrew a heavy-looking gold chain with a tiny hourglass hanging from it.

"You may have been wondering how I was going to timetable all your lessons this year. This is a Time-Turner. Simply turn it over once to travel one hour back in time. That way you can be in two or more different classes at once.

"But there are some _very_ important rules," Professor McGonagall continued, becoming suddenly stern. "You cannot be seen to be in two places at the same time. If someone sees you entering an Arithmancy lesson, they can't also see you attending a Muggle Studies lesson. The furthest you back in time you can travel in one use is five hours; any longer can cause serious harm to yourself and time. And most importantly, you can't tell anyone about this." Perhaps sensing Hermione's question, Professor McGonagall said with a wry smile " _Especially_ not Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley.

"I've had to write a lot of letters to the Ministry of Magic to acquire this. Don't make me regret it."

xxx

Hermione had been looking forward to her new subjects, but Divination turned out to be a bit of a farce. Professor Trelawney tried her best to be mystic and mysterious, but under all of her shawls and scarves, it was obvious that she was a fraud.

Of all of Hermione's new textbooks, _Unfogging the Future_ had been the least interesting. The ridiculousness of the subject was laid plain during their very first lesson; how on Earth could the future be predicted by looking into an empty tea cup?

Proof that Trelawney may very well be a fake came at the end of the lesson.

"A windfall, unexpected gold," said Ron, trying to decipher Harry's cup. "Excellent, you can lend me some…and there's something here. It looks like a hippo…no, a sheep…"

Professor Trelawney whirled around and snatched up the cup as Harry snorted with laughter.

"Let me see that dear. The falcon…my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

Hermione tutted loudly, and rolled her eyes exasperatedly. _Of course_ Trelawney would choose Harry, the student with the famous history, and try to prophesize his future.

"Well everyone knows _that_ ," she said as everyone stared. "Well they do! Everyone knows about Harry and You-Know-Who." Professor Trelawney pretended not to have heard.

"The club…an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup. The skull…danger in your path, my dear…" She gave the cup a final turn, screamed, and dropped it back onto the table in fright. "My dear boy…my poor, dear boy…you have the Grim."

"The what?" Harry answered, nonplussed.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim! The giant, spectral dog that haunts graveyards! It is the worst omen-of _death_!"

"Well _I_ don't think it looks like a Grim," Hermione said flatly, standing up and moving around behind Harry's chair. "It's just a load of soggy brown stuff in a cup." Only now did Professor Trelawney turn her gaze on Hermione.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you."

Hermione was still exasperated at lunch time, but Ron was still looking worried.

"Oh Ron, cheer up! You can't possibly believe that old fraud!" Ron, however, leaned forward and whispered across the table to Harry.

"Harry," he said in a serious voice, "you _haven't_ seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have; the night I ran away from my uncle's house." Ron let his fork fall with a clatter, but Hermione had heard enough.

"Ron! The Grim isn't real! Divination is just a lot of guesswork. That lesson was absolute rubbish compared to my Arithmancy class!"

She snatched up her bag and stormed off. It wasn't until she was halfway across the entrance hall that she realised what she had said, and clapped a hand to her mouth. She had very nearly spilled her secret, less than 24 hours after promising Professor McGonagall that she wouldn't tell a soul.

xxx

As the Gryffindors made their way down to Hagrid's cabin for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures lesson, Hermione had to admit that it was a very surreal experience, knowing that while she was walking down the grounds, she was also learning about Ancient Runes up in the castle.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" Hagrid called to the approaching class. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Everyone follow me!" Hagrid led them to a paddock on the edge of the forest, in which stood a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Hermione had ever seen. They had the bodies, tails and hind legs of horses, but the front legs, wings and heads of giant eagles. Each was a different colour, and the talons on their front legs were half-a-foot long. "Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

As Hagrid explained the correct way to handle a hippogriff, Hermione noticed Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were talking quickly in undertones; she was sure they were thinking of the best way to disrupt the lesson.

"Right, who wants to go first?" Hermione started as Harry walked forward, climbed over the fence, and approached Buckbeak. Hermione watched through the gaps in her fingers as Harry first bowed to the hippogriff; a move which Buckbeak reciprocated; before he mounted the creature and flew once around the paddock. "Well done, Harry!" Hagrid roared, "Well done! OK, who else wants a go?"

The rest of the class moved forward into the herd, with Hermione, Harry and Ron approaching a chestnut-coloured hippogriff. Hermione could sense Harry's gaze lingering on her tanned skin visible through her white shirt. She felt her skin tingle as he moved closer behind her under the pretense of stroking their hippogriff's neck, and she gasped quietly as his hand lightly brushed against her arm.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream made them all spin around. Malfoy was rolling around on the floor, writhing in pain.

"I'm dying!" he yelled. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" cried Hagrid while restraining Buckbeak, who was still attempting to attack Malfoy. "Someone help me…gotta get him to the Hospital Wing…"

It was a very subdued mood in the Gryffindor Common Room that night. Harry had first been given a death omen, and now Hagrid's job may be at risk.

"Well, you can't say that it wasn't an interesting first day back."

Ron couldn't have phrased it any better.


	17. The Prisoner of Azkaban, Part 3

Hermione felt very awkward and slightly guilty as she walked down Hogsmeade High Street, head bowed against the cold. She had left a very sad Harry alone by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, and it was only now that she realised she had never spent much time alone with Ron. Harry was the one who started the conversations and filled the awkward silences, but with him absent, Hermione felt very uncomfortable.

"So…do you, er…want to visit the Shrieking Shack?" Ron answered with a noncommittal shrug, so the pair of them trudged away from the village, up to the viewpoint overlooking the abandoned old house.

As she observed the landscape, Hermione noticed out of the corner of her eye that Ron kept throwing glances at her. She blushed when she realised that he may be imagining her naked and wishing he could see it himself; Hermione had hoped that Harry may have kept that particular encounter a secret.

A few hours later, she and Ron returned to the castle carrying as many sweets and gifts for Harry as they could manage.

"So," Hermione began as they made their way downstairs for the Halloween feast, "what did you get up to today, Harry?"

"I went to see Lupin in his office, and then Snape came in…" Hermione listened in growing horror as Harry informed them of a suspicious drink proffered by the Potions master, and drunk by Lupin.

"Is he mad?" Ron questioned. "But surely he wouldn't poison Lupin in front of Harry?"

The Great Hall was swarming with its usual Halloween decorations of live bats, while hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins covered every surface. As usual, the food was delicious.

After a long and wonderful evening, Hermione, Harry and Ron joined the throng of Gryffindors heading back upstairs. But as they reached the Fat Lady's corridor, they found it crammed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" Ron complained. "Surely everyone can't have forgotten the password!"

Suddenly, Professor Dumbledore appeared behind them, and as the crowd parted to let the headmaster through, Hermione was able to view the Fat Lady's portrait; she gasped at what she saw, and clapped a hand to her mouth. The canvas had been viciously slashed; strips littered the floor, and the Fat Lady had vanished from the painting. A high-pitched cackle broke out behind them, and everyone turned to see Peeves the Poltergeist floating there, a huge grin on his face as there always was whenever chaos and destruction reigned.

"What do you know, Peeves?" said Professor Dumbledore, and Peeves' grin dropped a little; he didn't dare taunt the headmaster.

"Ashamed she is, headmaster. Doesn't want to be seen. He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in."

"Who was it?" Dumbledore queried.

"Who else? Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

xxx

All of Gryffindor house was sent back to the Great Hall. They were soon joined by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and everybody was issued a sleeping bag. While the students slept, the teachers searched the castle for Black, but he was not to be found anywhere.

The Fat Lady's torn canvas had been replaced by the portrait of Sir Cadogan, the knight who had previously hung near the Divination classroom. He spent half of his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords that no-one could remember.

Even though the weather was deteriorating rapidly, the Gryffindor Quidditch team were training harder than ever. They had recently been informed that they would be playing Hufflepuff and not Slytherin, which Oliver Wood thought necessitated much more practice. Wood had also been intercepting Harry between classes to dispense advice to him.

As the Gryffindor third years hurried to Defence Against the Dark Arts, Wood once again turned up, seemingly from nowhere.

"Harry, couldn't have a quick word, could I?" It was the third time this had happened, so he resigned himself to another lecture as the rest of the class left him behind.

Hermione was just taking out her books when the classroom door opened again, but to everyone's surprise, it was not Professor Lupin who walked in, but Professor Snape.

"Settle down, settle down," Snape ordered as he strode to the front of the class, who looked around quizzically at each other.

"Sir, where's Professor Lupin?" Dean Thomas blurted out.

"Professor Lupin is feeling too ill to teach today. Now, turn to page-"

But at that moment, Harry burst into the classroom, out of breath after presumably having sprinted from his conversation with Wood.

"This class began 5 minutes ago Potter. 10 points from Gryffindor. Sit down. As I was saying before Mr. Potter interrupted us," Snape continued as Harry took a seat beside Hermione, "I would like you all to turn to page 394."

Hermione turned to the back of the book, and saw a diagram of a man transforming into a large wolf.

"Werewolves!" she exclaimed. "But sir, we're due to start hinkypunks, we're not starting werewolves until-"

"Can anybody tell me how we distinguish between a werewolf and a true wolf?"

Most of the class met Snape's question with blank faces, but as usual, Hermione's hand shot into the air; as had been the trend for three years, Snape ignored her.

"No one? Pity. I didn't think I'd ever meet a third year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one."

"Please, sir," Hermione began, unable to restrain herself, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several ways-"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Are you unable to contain yourself, or do you take pride from being an insufferable know-it-all?"

Going red in the face, Hermione finally put her hand down and stared at the floor, tears in her eyes.

Snape had taken an immediate dislike to her since her first day at Hogwarts, and his attitude hadn't changed no matter how much she tried to impress him. He'd asked a question, and Hermione had known the answer; why did he insist on ignoring her?

As she fought back tears, Hermione felt the light touch of Harry's hand on hers, saw his small, reassuring smile, and felt as though her stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies.

xxx

It was the worst weather Hermione had ever known for a Quidditch match. Umbrellas were whipped out of hands by the ferocious wind and Hermione was forced to pull her hood up high to protect her cold face from the driving rain. It was extremely difficult to work out what was happening in the match, the rain was so heavy. Hermione could make out Harry, flying around erratically; completely blinded by the stormy conditions.

30 long, wet, freezing minutes later, 14 players dived to the ground as Madam Hooch whistled for a time out. Taking her cue, Hermione darted back along the row, out of the stands and across to were the Gryffindor team were huddled.

"Hermione, what are-" Harry began to ask, but before he could finish, she grabbed his glasses, tapped them with her wand and said, " _Impervius_!"

"There! They'll repel water!" Wood and the rest of the Gryffindor team beamed at Hermione and called their thanks as she darted back out into the crowd.

When the match resumed, Hermione could tell that her charm had worked. Harry may still be sodden, but he could see, darting around the pitch searching for that tiny golden ball.

But suddenly, he stopped dead in the air, staring at the stands with a look of outright fear across his face.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, the wind whipping away her words. "What are you doing?!"

Something seemed to fall into place in his head, for he took off again, in pursuit of a speeding Cedric Diggory. But he had hardly made any progress before a cold swept over her, her skin turned clammy, and her lungs seemed to constrict.

Looking down, horrified, to the pitch below, Hermione saw dementors, a hundred hooded, cloaked dementors looking up at them. But what was worse than the dread settling deep inside her was the blood-curdling scream that echoed around the stadium. Glancing upwards, Hermione felt her heart stop dead as she clapped eyes on the most horrifying sight of her life; Harry falling off his broomstick and plummeting to the ground below.

Professor Dumbledore appeared at the edge of the pitch. Striding forward, he waved his wand, and Harry magically slowed down and landed gently on the turf. Turning towards the intruders, he shot something huge and silvery from the end of his wand, causing them to scarper.

Ron's binoculars were cutting into the bridge of Hermione's nose as she tried to make out what was happening on the pitch below.

"What's going on?" Ron was shouting.

"I don't know. It looks like Dumbledore's got Harry on a stretcher…he's taking him up to the school…"

Hardly anyone had noticed that Diggory had caught the Snitch, but there was no celebrating from the Hufflepuffs, who, like everyone else, were wondering and worried about the wellbeing of the Boy Who Lived.

xxx

As soon as she was able, Hermione had sprinted up to the hospital wing, Ron and the Gryffindor Quidditch team following in her wake. They found Harry lying in a bed, unconscious but looking unhurt. When he finally awoke, no-one was really sure who or how they would break the news to him; not only had Gryffindor lost, but his beloved Nimbus 2000 had drifted into the Whomping Willow.

Madam Pomfrey kept Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend, and Hermione and Ron only left his side at night. He had a stream of visitors, including Ginny Weasley (who delivered a self-made get-well-soon card) and Hagrid, but nothing anyone said seemed to cheer him up.

Hermione was desperate to be alone with Harry, but unfortunately, she was unable to shake off Ron. So, as she had done exactly one year previously, Hermione stole Harry's invisibility cloak and headed down to the hospital wing for a late-night visit.

Whereas last year he had been pleasantly surprised to see her, today he looked annoyed at Hermione's presence.

"What do you want, Hermione?"

"Hey! You don't have to take that tone with me. I just came to see how you are," she replied softly, smiling at him; a motion that was not reciprocated. Undeterred, Hermione moved her hand surreptitiously down Harry's bed sheets and began gently rubbing his groin; when she felt no reaction, she moved her hand under the covers, but Harry glared at her and forcefully pushed her hand away to make her stop.

"Hermione! What are you doing? Can't you see I feel like crap? You can't just cheer me up all the time by coming in here and jacking me off! Either say something comforting or get out."

"But…Harry-"

It was all going so wrong. Harry had been through an awful couple of weeks; first he had been unable to go to Hogsmeade; then Sirius Black had broken into Hogwarts and tried to kill him; now he'd lost his first Quidditch match, had his Nimbus 2000 destroyed and nearly died again. Hermione was so sure that this would have taken his mind off everything that had happened. Unless…

"Harry," Hermione asked. "Is there something you're not telling us? Something else that's bothering you?"

"Hermione, I'm fine."

"You said to me last year that I should tell you if anything's worrying me," she responded, stroking his hand with her own. "It works both ways, you know."

"Hermione, I told you! I'm fine! Just get off my case!" Harry pulled his hand from her grasp and resolutely folded his arms, making it clear that the conversation had reached an end.

Terrified, Hermione leapt to her feet, flung the cloak over herself, and fled the room.

xxx

Hermione was excited to find out that there was to be another Hogsmeade visit on the final weekend of term. She and Ron had already agreed to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas to keep Harry company, and had also privately agreed to buy some Honeydukes chocolate for him as a treat.

After buying some Toothflossing Stringmints for her parents, she joined Ron in the far corner of the shop, under a sign marked "Unusual tastes."

"What about those?" Ron asked her, pointing at a tray of blood-flavoured lollipops.

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want them, they're for vampires, I expect."

"Ok, how about these?" He shoved a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose.

"Definitely not."

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun around and came face-to-face with Harry.

" _Harry!_ What are you doing here? How-"

"Wow!" Ron interrupted, "you've learnt to Apparate!"

"'Course I haven't. Fred and George gave me this map. It's incredible! It shows exactly where everyone in Hogwarts is, and what they're up to. But the best bit: it shows secret passages out of the school; the one I used comes out in Honeydukes' cellar."

"But you're not going to keep it, are you?" Hermione demanded.

"Are you mad?" Ron looked incredulous. "Hand in something that good? Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas. Harry deserves a break."

"Well, yes, but-"

"Relax, Hermione, I've got my invisibility cloak with me."

So, despite the risks, the three of them set off into a snowy Hogsmeade. No teachers seemed to be about, so after a while Harry took off the cloak as they wandered up to the Shrieking Shack, before visiting Zonko's joke shop and the post office, with its multitude of owls of various shapes and sizes.

The three of them were heading towards the Three Broomsticks when Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, as well as the Minister of Magic and Hagrid rounded the corner. Ron and Hermione made to pull Harry out of sight, but he shrugged them off, pulled on his invisibility cloak, and followed the adults inside.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione called after him, but he the door was already swinging shut behind him; it would be impossible to locate him inside the crowded pub, so she and Ron decided to wait outside for him.

20 minutes later, just when Ron was beginning to complain and wishing that they could return to the school, the door of the Three Broomsticks opened seemingly of its own accord, and footprints appeared in the snow.

"Ron, look!" Hermione said, pointing. "That must be Harry!"

Standing up, they hurried after the footsteps, which were winding a trail towards the Shrieking Shack. Harry was going at such a pace that Hermione and Ron were soon sweating as they climbed the hill after him.

"Do you hear something?" Ron asked, holing out an arm to stop her. Hermione listened, and sure enough, she could hear the unmistakable sound of sobbing. Pushing past Ron's arm, Hermione hesitantly approached Harry, stretching out a hand until she made contact with him.

"Harry? What is it?" she enquired, pulling the cloak off him. "What happened?"

"He was their friend, and he betrayed them," Harry answered. "He was their friend! He sold them out to Voldemort!"

"Oh, Harry-!" Hermione made to comfort him, but he pushed her away, threw the invisibility cloak back over himself and stormed away, leaving Hermione stood there, confused and with tears in her eyes.

xxx

Hermione woke on Christmas morning to a small pile of presents at the bottom of her bed. After eagerly ripping them open, she pulled on her dressing gown, checked in the mirror that she was presentable, and that enough leg was on show to catch Harry's eye, and headed out of the room. She pushed open the door of the boy's dormitory to find Harry and Ron rolling about with laughter.

"What are you two laughing about?" she asked, dropping Crookshanks onto Seamus' empty bed.

"Don't bring him in here!" Ron yelled, but Hermione was staring, open-mouthed, at the item sitting in Harry's lap. It was the broomstick that Hermione had seen in Diagon Alley: The Firebolt.

"Oh _Harry!_ Who sent you _that?_ "

She was so preoccupied with the broomstick that she didn't notice Harry's eyes roving up and down her exposed flesh, or the tightening of his pajama bottoms.

"No idea. There wasn't a card or anything." An anxious look took hold of Hermione's face as she bit her lip nervously. "What's up with you?"

"I don't know…but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean this is a really good broom. And really expensive."

"Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," Ron replied happily. "Anyway, who cares who sent it to Harry? Listen, can I have a go on it?"

"I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" said Hermione shrilly. Before either of the boys could respond, Crookshanks sprang onto Ron's chest.

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE!" Ron bellowed as he pushed the cat off himself and aimed a wild, misjudged kick as the feline fled from the room.

Christmas spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione had shut Crookshanks away in her dormitory, but Ron was still furious at him for his latest attempt to eat Scabbers. Annoyingly, Harry had brought his Firebolt down to the common room, even though it was obvious that it was potentially very dangerous.

All three of them went down to the Christmas feast together, where they enjoyed another sumptuous Christmas meal in a very informal setting alongside the teachers. Two hours later, the boys were ready to retire to the common room. Hermione however, lingered.

"Professor McGonagall, I wondered if I could have a quick word. You see, this morning Harry received a Firebolt. But there was no note; we don't know who sent it."

"Why are you telling me this, Miss Granger?"

"Well…I think it was sent to Harry by Sirius Black."

Harry and Ron were both sat in the common room, admiring the Firebolt, when Professor McGonagall walked in. Hermione marched past all three of them and hid her face behind a book as she tried to block out the conversation happening in front of her.

"So this is it, is it? Well, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take this from you."

"W-what?" said Harry, outraged.

"It will need to be checked for jinxes. I shall keep you informed."

Harry stared at her as she left the room, but Ron rounded on Hermione.

" _What did you go running to McGonagall for?_ " he bellowed, snatching _A Study of Ancient Runes_ away from her. Towering over her, he looked quite scary. Plucking up all her courage, pink in the face and with tears in her eyes, she stood up to him defiantly.

"Because I thought; and Professor McGonagall agrees with me; that this broom was sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"

Ron simply stood there, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly.

"Well-" he eventually spluttered, "that's just-"

But whatever it was Hermione never found out, as Ron stormed up to the boy's dormitory, slamming the door loudly behind him.

"Harry…"

Hermione nervously approached him, still rooted to the spot, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hand. He looked down upon her, white in the face.

"Harry. I-I'm so sorry. But I had to. It-it might be jinxed.

"I just want to keep you safe."

Fighting back tears, she reached towards him, but he quickly backed away from her slowly shaking his head in disbelief.

Hermione wanted him to scream. She wanted him to shout, to rage, to storm off. This stunned silence; a mixture of shock, hurt and betrayal; was devastating. She had tried to comfort him after all the terrible things he'd been through that year; being attacked by a dementor on the train, nearly dying after falling off his broomstick, losing his Nimbus, and most recently, finding out that Sirius Black had betrayed his parents to You-Know-Who. But the harder she tried, the more distant he became; how had their friendship deteriorated so much in such a short space of time to the point where he would no longer even smile at her?

The first tear fell from Hermione's face as she watched Harry; the Boy Who Lived, the boy who risked his life for her on occasions too numerous to count; and potentially their friendship, disappear up the stairs after Ron.

 **I'm so, so sorry that it's taken me ages to update; I've had so much stuff going on, and I've been working on other things. This chapter is the longest yet by far, but going to see Fantastic Beasts the other day (which is amazing!) inspired me to crack on with it.**


	18. The Prisoner of Azkaban, Part 4

The next few months were some of the worst for Hermione at Hogwarts. Not since those first few months at the start of her first year had she felt so alone in a place so large. Ron was still incensed at her; he thought that the stripping down of a brand new Firebolt was nothing short of criminal damage. Harry had still not displayed any signs of anger towards her, but he still refused to talk to her.

However, there were more than enough things on Hermione's mind to keep her occupied. After Buckbeak had attacked Malfoy on the first day of term, Hagrid had been told to attend a trial in London which would determine the hippogriff's fate. Hermione was determined to give him a good case for acquittal, so spend most of her time either in Hagrid's Hut or in library, researching past trials of magical creatures.

The library was the only place where Hermione could find comfort and blissful solitude. She still maintained that she had done the right thing, and refused to go and apologise to the boys.

But the worst thing about not having Harry and Ron's company was the sudden realisation of just how much work she had. The boys' company had helped to take her mind off it, but with nothing to occupy her accept work, she was beginning to feel the effects of taking on three more subjects than anyone else. Hermione couldn't remember the last time that she had had a good night's sleep, and she often found herself wearing the same clothes for days at a time.

xxx

One evening in early February found Hermione was once again trying to do three pieces of homework at the same time. She was so engrossed in her work that she wasn't aware of anyone approaching her until a voice called out.

"Miss Granger." Hermione jumped, and looked up to see Professor McGonagall staring down at her, Harry's Firebolt under one arm. "You haven't seen Mr Potter anywhere, have you?"

"Oh, he…he's still with Professor Lupin. I'm not sure what time he'll be back."

As Professor McGonagall left, Hermione prepared herself for the inevitable flurry of activity that would occur once Harry returned. And sure enough, when Harry and Ron climbed into the common room just a few minutes later, they immediately surrounded by a large crowd, all of them eager to get their hands on the Firebolt.

"Will you let me have a go?"

"Ravenclaw will have no chance, they're all on Cleansweeps!"

"Can I just _hold_ it, Harry?"

After 10 minutes or so, the pair of them managed to fight their way over to her.

"See, Hermione? I got it back. There wasn't anything wrong with it!"

"Well…there _might_ have been," she smiled. "At least now we know it's safe."

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Ron. "Listen, Harry, can I take it upstairs? I need to give Scabbers his rat tonic."

As Ron ran upstairs with his precious cargo, Harry found a seat next to Hermione, squeezing between her piles of textbooks and calculations.

"How are you getting through all this?" he asked.

"Oh…you know…working hard," Hermione responded, fighting back a yawn.

"Why don't you just drop a few subjects? Arithmancy looks terrible."

"Oh no, it's wonderful!" Hermione replied earnestly. "It's-"

But before she could explain just how wonderful Arithmancy was, a strangled yell echoed down from the boy's dormitory. The whole common room was petrified into silence as Ron burst into the room, dragging a bedsheet with him.

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione and Harry. "SCABBERS! LOOK!"

The two of them leaned in close, examining the red streak on the white material, a streak that looked suspiciously like-

"BLOOD! AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"

Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translations. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.

Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes again. Just mere minutes after getting her friends back, she would be condemned to being alone again.

But then she caught Harry's eye, and while he didn't smile at her, there was a reassuring look in his expression, and Hermione knew that Harry wasn't going to abandon her this time.

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" Ron questioned.

"I'm saying it wasn't Crookshanks."

"Oh, come one, Harry! All the evidence is there-"

"They might have been there since Christmas. How do you know it's Scabbers' blood? I think you're just looking for an excuse to have a go at Crookshanks, you've never liked him."

Hermione beamed with happiness; she felt like kissing Harry right there and then, in front of all the watching Gryffindors.

"Oh, shut up, Harry," Ron retorted, "you're only taking her side because you love her!"

Hermione was shocked. She had never seen the boys argue like this. It looked like Harry was undergoing some sort of internal struggle not to lash out and punch Ron.

"Come one, Hermione," Harry said, taking her by the hand and leading her out of the portrait hole. "We don't have to stay here and listen to this."

And with the rest of the room staring on in stunned silence, the pair of them climbed out of the portrait hole, leaving a furious Ron behind them.

xxx

It was only once they had left Gryffindor Tower, and the adrenaline had begun to ebb away, that Hermione realised how silly Harry's impulse decision had been. It was past the time that students were allowed out of their houses, but there was no way they could return immediately. Before Hermione could begin to formulate a solution to their problem, they heard the heavy footfall and wheezing breathing of Argus Filch.

Without hesitation, Hermione dragged Harry into a side room, closing the door on them just as the caretaker turned the corner.

Once the panic had subsided, Hermione could take in her surroundings. Their hiding place turned out to be a very small cupboard; so small, in fact, that the two of them had to squeeze close together just to fit inside.

Hermione could feel Harry's manhood straining against his robes, causing her skirt to rise slightly up her legs.

She quietly slipped one small hand inside his robes, and after taking a deep breath, inside his underwear. Despite her extensive reading, nothing could have prepared her for what it felt like to touch a penis. For someone so young, Harry's was thick and hard, and surprisingly long. Hermione ran her thumb lightly up and down his shaft, establishing a feel for her it, before grasping it firmly and pumping at a fast tempo. Her movements were restricted by Harry's clothing, but Hermione didn't want to waste time removing them, so eager was she to finally finish him off after all her failed past attempts.

"He-Hermione!" Harry gasped. "I-"

Hermione felt Harry shudder, and her hand was suddenly covered in a warm, sticky substance.

Withdrawing her hand, Hermione could examine it in the semi-gloom. It was covered in a whitish fluid that clung to her fingers and formed tendrils as she parted them. Awkwardly pulling out her wand, Hermione whispered " _Tergeo_!" and siphoned Harry's load off her fingers.

Harry was breathing heavily, and Hermione could already feel him growing hard again despite having ejaculated mere moments again.

Hermione worked her hands through Harry's robes and shirt, and placed her hands on Harry's muscular torso for the first time. She lightly traced the outline of every muscle with a finger, before slowly moving her hands down to the waistband of Harry's boxers.

"Err…Hermione? Maybe stop now? My pants are pretty soaked as it is."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, blushing crimson. "Of course, sorry about that…"

Harry laughed.

"No need to apologise for that!"

Hermione was busy listening for any sound of Filch outside their hiding place, and didn't pay any attention to Harry's wandering hands until she felt her shirt become loose on her shoulders. Glancing down, in the gloom, she could make out her pale chest, and the top of her black bra concealing breasts that Hermione was still ashamed to expose to anyone.

"Harry! Stop that!" Hermione grabbed Harry's wrists and pulled them away from her torso. "I don't want you to see them! Not…not yet."

"Hermione, I've already seen them." She could have slapped him!

"Harry-!"

"But I promise that I won't try and see them again until you grant permission. I'm so sorry, Hermione, I just…got over excited. Do you forgive me?"

Standing on her tip toes, she gripped Harry by the shoulders and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek.

"Of course, I forgive you, Harry," she whispered in his ear. Hermione re-secured her clothing, took Harry's hand, led him out of the cupboard and back to the common room; their friendship fully restored in the most unexpected circumstances.


End file.
